


Avengers: The Return of Loki

by RavenWillowDragomir



Series: Avengers [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blackeye, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pepperony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWillowDragomir/pseuds/RavenWillowDragomir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Placed after both new Thor and Winter Soldier) Loki has managed to take over Asgard, and now has thousands of soldiers under his command. He decides to go back to Earth, and finish what he started there. The Avengers must reunite in order to defeat him, but Loki also has a promise to keep, one he made to Black Widow- and he's prepared to carry it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm basically just a huge shipper of Clintasha and action. Leave comments and suggestions below!

“Barton,” Natasha panted, staring down into eyes that were lit with electric blue fire. The two had been in the training room, sparring, when one of his spells hit. Ever since Loki had taken over his mind, Hawkeye had been having short relapses into his controlled state. With no instructions and no master to give them, he’d turned on the person he trusted more than anyone else in the world- Natasha Romanoff.

 

He held her two feet off the ground, his hand clenched tightly around her neck, thumb pressed into her windpipe. When this happened- and it was always with her- she didn’t fight back. She knew the assassin’s natural instincts would only add to the problem. “Clint, it’s me,” she hissed, struggling to take in enough air. He hit her hard across the face with his free hand, splitting her cheek. “It’s me, Tasha,” she whispered, a trickle of blood running down her face.

“Shut up!” He yelled furiously, slamming her back into the wall and letting her drop to the floor. His foot snaked out and jabbed her in the side, causing sharp pain to shoot up her ribs, and he drew it back for another kick. Black Widow raised her hands above her head, looking up at him with as much innocence and caring as she could put into her normally emotionless expression.

“Clint, please, you’re hurting me.” He faltered, blinking rapidly. Those angry too-blue eyes faded back to normal. She let her arms fall, relieved, as he took a step back, burying his face in his hands.

“Tasha?” He lowered his arms, confusion turning to worry when he saw her on the floor. Clint knelt in front of her, scrambled emotions clouding his features. “What happened?” He lifted a hand to her cut cheek, to the shockingly scarlet blood. She flinched involuntarily, her muscles tensing despite her internal reprimands.

 

“Tasha, did I do this to you? Oh god, Nat, I didn’t mean to hurt you...” his words were cut off as she tugged him into her embrace.

“It wasn’t you, it’s okay.” It wasn’t that she was greatly injured. No, the Russian assassin didn’t even register pain on such a low level, he knew that. But it was killing him to hurt her, to not be able to control himself.

“How can you do it?” He whispered, his head resting on her shoulder. “How can you work every day, put your life in my hands, when I mindlessly hurt you?” She rubbed his back in small circles, her voice low when she replied.

“Because I don’t see it as you. Your body, yes. But when I see your eyes, all I see is Loki. Loki hurting me, hurting you.” She pulled back, holding him at arm's length, her green eyes meeting his light blue ones. “I trust you.” He hugged her again.

 

Three simple words to some, but between them, it was everything. Their entire lives consisted of sneaking, lying, and watching. Everyone was a target, an enemy, and the worst mistake to be made was letting your guard down. They could all betray your trust, if you were stupid enough to give it to them. For them, trusting someone wasn’t risking friendship or family or even your heart. It was risking your life.

“Why don’t you stop me?” His voice was muffled as he spoke into her shoulder.

“Because your instincts would kick in. It’s not like when Loki actually had you. He used everything you had on me, everything you’ve learned, everything that makes you you. But this, it’s like your body is being forced, but your mind is resisting. It’s blunt. I could take him out in an instant, if I had to.” She sighed, her eyebrow turning up the way it so often did. “As long as he’s not hurting me, it’s better not to hurt him, and consequently you.” She generally referred to Clint’s other state as him, meaning Loki. It helped both of them separate his actions from Loki’s. After a long moment in which it was silent, save for gentle breathing, he pulled away.

Barton squared his shoulders, getting to his feet and helping her up, even though she didn’t need it. They walked towards the exit in silence.

“You’re going to have bruises,” he said quietly, his face expressionless, but his eyes showed he was hurting. She rolled her own eyes at him as the door opened to let them through, and slid shut behind them. There was no need for her to point out that she wasn’t actually hurt. He knew.

 

They walked down the hallway side by side, entering the elevator and turning back around as the machine whirred to life. There was no elevator music playing today. Jarvis knew better than that, for which both were grateful. The doors opened a few moments later, and together they stepped out into the living room.

 

                                                        ****

Stark Towers had been repaired almost immediately after the battle of New York, and had even been upgraded in places. It looked the same from the outside, but inside, everything had changed. After the destruction of S.H.I.E.L.D, and the Avengers’ secrets had been leaked to the world, they had reunited at the safest place they knew- Stark Towers. Thor was back on Asgard for all they knew, but Bruce, Natasha, and Clint had all relocated to the 84th floor, where bedrooms had been made for them. Steve’s stuff was there too, but he was still out searching for his friend and nemesis, Bucky. Director Fury and Agent Hill were supposedly working to regroup and restart the new S.H.I.E.L.D program, but that was about all they had gathered of their whereabouts. So while the world fought over what to do with them, and their agency tried to rebuild itself from the bottom up, the Avengers grew impatient, locked up in their tower.

 

Of course they weren’t actually locked in the building, but being seen in public didn’t go down too well, they had learned. At least not for most of them. Tony Stark was still so popular for his bravery in the battle, and his record was so comparatively good, that aside from the normal gasps and whispers, they didn’t really bother him. The others, however, rarely risked leaving Stark Towers, and if they did, it was at night time or in disguise. Perhaps most endangered of all was Black Widow, whose track record was less than clean, and she was wanted in over fifteen countries. At least Hawkeye worked for the good guys, for the most part. Not to mention, many of her old enemies had failed to track her down simply because she had changed her name. Now they knew.

 

As frustrating as it was, they were effectively grounded. To pass their time, Tony and Bruce worked together on science projects, and the two assassins trained in the gym on the 86th floor. Pepper was always in and out, attending press conferences and doing interviews all over the world, trying to defend the Avengers. Even so, all of them were getting twitchy.

 

                                                  ****

Tony and Bruce were sitting on the couch playing video games when they walked in. Glancing up briefly to see them enter, Stark did a double take.

“You’re bleeding.” She had nearly forgotten.

“Yeah. I got carried away,” she lied smoothly, moving behind the kitchen counter and grabbing a paper towel, holding it to her face.

“Hmph,” he responded uninterestedly, turning back to the screen and whacking a storm trooper over the head with his gun. Hawkeye followed her into the kitchen, pulling out dinner ingredients and shooing her out of the kitchen so he could work. She brushed past him, sending him one of the knowing looks they shared, and paced over to the two men playing video games.

 

“I thought this game was different,” she sat on the other couch, glancing up at the giant screen.

“I reprogrammed it to be better,” the billionaire bragged, without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Of course you did,” she rolled her eyes. He scowled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cooking or something?” Bruce’s eyes widened and he shook his head violently, while from the kitchen Barton chuckled.

“Last time she tried to cook, Jarvis nearly had to set off the fire sprinklers,” the Hulk said quickly.

“You should see her on missions. We went days without food once, because she managed to set our entire food supply on fire, and she wasn’t even trying to cook,” Clint chimed in from the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back into the cushion.

“Not my problem you men are better housewives than me. Cook all you want, chef-povar,” she said snidely. “Though I don’t particularly love any of your food.”

“That’s because the only thing you eat is sugar!” Tony argued.

“I get daily amounts of everything I need to be healthy,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you get it at the most basic food levels possible. Plus, with all the exercise you get, you still manage to eat dessert every day.”

“Maybe if you actually got some activity in your life, you’d be able to eat dessert and be fit,” she said pointedly, looking at Stark.  

 

They were always bickering, but the truth was, the group had grown even closer in their time living together. It was hard not to, in close proximity with them and spending all their time together. They only argued to keep things interesting, and just for the sake of having something to do.

 

They finished their level, and the Russian turned off the screen before they could start another.

“Hey,” they complained, but there was no fighting her on it.

“Help with dinner,” she instructed imperiously.

“How come you give commands? It’s my home.” Stark complained. Banner elbowed him in the side, pushing him up the two steps into the kitchen and following.

“Because she’s the assassin who could kill you instantly,” he whispered. Tony looked to the other assassin for help, but he just shrugged his muscled shoulders.

“Hey, I don’t want to be murdered either.” They shut up and set the table while Hawkeye finished dinner, watching from the corner of his eye as Natasha stretched out on the couch with a wince.

 

“Jarvis, turn on some music,” Stark clapped his hands together.

“Delay that,” called Pepper’s voice from where she stood, leaning against the elevator doorway. Banner and Stark nearly jumped out of their skins in surprise, but the other two had heard her coming.

“Miss Potts,” Iron Man tried to sound annoyed, but he was glad to see her. “Since when does Jarvis listen to you over me?” She strolled into the room, grinning at him.

“Since he realized how bad your music taste is.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Clint called hastily, stopping any continued banter. They all went and eagerly sat at the table, Tony and Pepper on one side, Natasha and Clint’s empty seat on the other, and Banner at the head. The cook carried several piping hot platters of food over, setting them down before taking his seat. The delicious smell of cheesy pasta, baked chicken, and steamed green beans wafted over them, making their mouths water.

 

They weren’t ones for saying grace or holding hands, so Natasha merely murmured,

“Blagoslovennyy yeda,” in Russian, and they tucked into their meal.

“It smells wonderful, Clint,” Pepper smiled warmly at him. He looked uncomfortable, unsure how to react to such open praise. In his line of business, emotions were for only closest of friends, if you were stupid enough to have them. Then again, his people were the Avengers, and Pepper was Tony’s person, so that made her important. Tony took a bite of the pasta, closing his eyes and groaning with satisfaction.

“‘S good,” he managed to say through mouthfuls. Everyone else exchanged knowing glances over his head, and Banner turned to Black Widow.

“Pass the green beans,” he motioned to the tray next to the dark red head. She merely looked at him, chewing and swallowing a bite of veggies. “Please,” he added meekly, earning his reward as she passed them his way.

“You’re eating all the pasta!” Iron Man said in dismay as the archer served himself seconds before he even finished firsts. “That’s not fair.”

“I cooked it.”

“God, you’re acting like children,” Pepper grumbled.

“You should see meals in Russia,” Widow commented, playing with her chicken. “People are smashing each other’s faces into the table over food.” Stark turned to look at his girlfriend pleadingly.

“Can I smash Barton’s head into the table, pretty please?” Hawkeye merely snorted and continued to eat.

“No, you wouldn’t even get close.” She rested her hand on his arm comfortingly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” He just grumbled and continued to eat his food, keeping an eye on the last of the pasta so Barton wouldn’t take it.

 

                                                     *****

 

When they were finished with dinner, everyone helped clean up the dishes.

“What’s for dessert?” Natasha paused in wiping down the table to look at him.

“I didn’t make anything, just ice cream,” Hawkeye said, watching the corner of her mouth turn up in a small smile. Other than chocolate, ice cream was her favourite dessert, and he knew it.

“Aw come on, you know I get a brain freeze!” Banner whined.

“Then don’t eat any,” Hawkeye said coolly.

“You could lay off the sweets anyway,” Tony grinned jokingly, receiving a punch to the shoulder. In the following argument, the women retrieved the ice cream and toppings and served themselves two large bowls without being noticed. By the time the men were done, both girls were sitting on the couches and watching with amusement.

 

“Hey, you two ate more than half!”

“First come first serve,” Black Widow replied, putting another spoonful of chocolate ice cream with fudge sauce and chocolate chips in her mouth and closing her eyes to savour it. It took the guys a few minutes to divvy up the leftovers, but eventually they all sat down in front of the TV. The couple claimed a couch for themselves, leaving Natasha sitting between Bruce and Clint.

“Now, what should we watch,” Stark swung an arm around his girlfriend and pulled her closer.

“If you say Star Wars again, I will kill you,” Widow warned quickly.

“How about Star Trek?” Banner offered up hopefully, but he was shot down.

“Gods, we’re never going to decide this way,” Pepper said, leaning her head on Tony’s shoulder. “Jarvis, any suggestions?” The calm British accented computer came on.

“There are many, Miss Potts, perhaps select a genre?”

“Action,” Stark cut in.

“Romance,” Pepper countered.

“Romance? No way. Something at least slightly interesting,” he retaliated, earning a glare.

“If I might make a suggestion, I believe you would all get something out of the television series ‘Sherlock’.” There was silence, as none of them had heard of it.

“Sherlock it is, then,” Pepper announced, pulling a soft blanket over herself and Tony. The episode began to play, and they all settled into more comfortable positions to see what played out.

 

                                                 *****

When the episode ended and the lights turned back on, they all looked at each other. It was past 1am, and Pepper was barely managing to keep her eyes open.

“Well,” Tony said grudgingly. “I guess I could stand to keep watching this series.” His girlfriend made a happy-sleepy noise, and he looked over her head at the others. “I say we call it a night, it’s late anyway.” Carefully he peeled the blanket off, helped Pepper up and led her off to their room. They lived on the 99th floor, and soon the elevator doors slid shut behind them.

“Yeah, we should probably head off, it’s been a long day,” Bruce said, holding out his hand to take their dishes to the kitchen. They gave them up gratefully, and headed towards the elevator, turning to wait for him.

 

“You two go ahead,” he waved them off. Banner often slept in the living room, where he felt less trapped than in between levels.

“Night Bruce, sleep well,” Natasha murmured, stepping into the elevator with Hawkeye. The doors slid shut behind them, and they descended slowly. “Are you ok?” She turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He ran his hand over his hair, a nervous habit. “I just wish I could control myself-him,” he corrected.

“I know. But they’re getting shorter and further apart every time.” Their eyes met again, her deep green meeting his light blue. “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” she said seriously. “You’ll destroy yourself. You’ve got enough people who’d like to do that without you being one of them.”

 

The silver doors slid open and they exited, turning left and walking down the short hallway.

“I’ll try. Get some rest, Tasha,” he murmured as they reached the end. To the left was his room, and across the hall was hers.

“You too,” she rested her hand on his arm for a second, before turning and slipping through her doorway and vanishing out of sight. With a sigh, he too entered his room and closed the door behind himself. They both changed for bed and brushed their teeth, going through the motions. They were in rest mode, when getting ready meant undressing and slipping into a soft bed. Other times it meant bandaging up a wound as best they could, and lying down on hard cold rock, hoping to last the night. Either way, it was a long time later that either of them actually drifted off to sleep.

 

                                                    ***

‘Not before I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear.’ She was lying on cold stone floor, could taste salty blood and feel it flow over her skin. Loki’s words echoed in her ears as she looked up at Clint, saw that the blue fire had taken over, and this time he had his orders. ‘Please,’ she croaked, her palms scraping against the ground as she tried to push herself onto all fours. ‘Please don’t make him do this, please, I’ll do anything.’ A foot swung out and connected with her jaw, snapping her head back. Everything hurt, it felt like she had been crushed and set on fire. The god laughed coldly, watching from the corner. ‘Stop? No, no, Miss Romanoff, this is only the beginning…’Hawkeye dragged her to her feet by the hair, and she was too weak to fight back as he threw her against the wall again. She could feel something crack on impact, but there was too much pain now to tell what it was. He dragged her upright again, holding her on her knees so he was looking down into her pained green eyes. His mouth curled into a snarl, anger written all over his face, more than she’d ever seen before. ‘You didn’t deserve a second chance,’ he snarled at her. ‘You deserve to die.’

 

She woke, tangled in her sheets, a cold sweat covering her skin. Her breath was coming in fast gasps, and she was having trouble getting enough oxygen. Panicked, she fell off the bed and tore the blankets off, stumbling from her room and down the hallway. Her hair was a mess and she was just wearing a tank top and shorts, but she didn’t care, didn’t have the capacity to care. She slammed a fist down on the up button, gulping in air and practically falling in when the doors opened.

“Jarvis, just take me up and down,” her voice was hoarse and scratchy. “Just keep taking me up and down.” She crawled into the corner, her hands trembling violently as she pulled her knees to her chest. She’d had terrible nightmares before, had terrible things done to her. She’d endured more tortures and more pain than they could dream of. But this scared her, shook her deep to her core in ways so much worse than death.

“Alright, Miss Romanoff,” he said softly, silently taking her up. She rested her head on her knees, her entire body shaking as she made herself as small as possible.

 

It was hours later, when, too exhausted to move anymore, she’d fallen into a restless sleep, still curled in the corner of the small elevator. Her breathing was irregular but her eyes were closed, arms hanging loosely around her knees. The gentle rise and fall of the elevator rocked her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Tasha! Wake up!” Clint Barton was kneeling on the cold tile floor, his hand on Black Widow’s shoulder as he shook her awake. Her instincts kicked in and her fist swung towards his face, but he was ready, and deflected it easy. Her large green eyes flew open and she sat up straight, muscles tensed for a fight. Recognizing him, her shoulders sagged and she let her head rest against the wall. “What happened?” She was still dressed for bed, and she looked like hell. Her hair was tangled and frizzy, her eyes bloodshot, and he knew she must have been here all night.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” she pushed red curls out of her face, meeting his concerned gaze.

“Bull.”

“I had a rough night,” she sighed, rubbing her hands up and down her legs to regain some feeling in them. He reached out and took her pale hand in his much larger one, noting the goosebumps risen on her bare skin.

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m Russian,” she quipped, letting his warmth melt the ice cubes that were her fingers.

“Nightmare?” He caught her eyes with his.

“Yeah,” she admitted, shivering. He sat up and pulled her to her feet, taking her other hand and warming it between his.

“Shower?” She nodded, and the elevator descended. He knew her better than anyone, and after a particularly bad nightmare- which weren’t all that uncommon for her- a hot shower helped to clear her head. They stepped out on their floor, turning to pad lightly down the hallway. Clint opened her door and stepped aside to let her pass, following her in and closing it behind them. Her blankets were in a pile on the floor, and water still flowed from the tap- a trick Hawkeye had taught her to help get to sleep.

“You’ll stay?” He nodded, moving into the room to shut off the running water. His episodes were weeks apart now, so she didn’t have to worry about him attacking her. Her best friend’s presence was soothing, and she felt less vulnerable- as she always felt after her nightmares- with him around. She gave him a small smile of thanks, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door.

The room was painted a light shade of blue, the same colour as Clint’s eyes, in fact. On her left was the counter and sink, with a large mirror hanging over it. Across from the door she had entered was another door, made of clear glass. She undressed and crossed the room, not bothering to look at herself as she passed. Black Widow knew too well what she looked like after one of these nights. She turned her back on the mirror and pulled a soft white towel from the cabinet, hanging it neatly on the bar before opening the shower door and getting inside.

The shower was beautifully designed just for her. At first glance, the walls appeared to be made of simple dark stone, the rough type you’d find in a cave. But, after turning the shower lights to dim, she could see more clearly. Set into random places in the rock were large rainbow gemstones that glimmered when she looked at them at the right angle. Turning on the water, she felt like she was deep in a gem mine, dark and damp and quiet. Steam rose as the hot water soaked her in seconds, her muscles relaxing from the heat. She got shampoo from the bottle on the carved shelf, running her fingers over the glassy surface of a deep red gem. She loved everything about it, but perhaps favourite of all was a particular feature. If she pressed two particular stones at the same time, the wall would slide open to reveal a tiny room and a trapdoor that led to a set of stairs. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but she was a spy. Nothing would ever be completely safe. She also happened to know that Clint had an escape route in his room too, because their sets of stairs led to the same room.

She absentmindedly soaped herself clean, smoothing conditioner into her hair as she let the water wash soap off her body. Natasha sat down on the floor of the shower, pulling her knees to her chest and letting the heat wash over her. There was no telling how long she sat there, eyes closed, but after what seemed like hours, she turned off the water and got up.

Black Widow dried herself off, wrapping the towel around her body and exiting the bathroom. Clint had remade her bed, and was sprawled across it, reading a magazine. He looked up as she came in, then returned to his reading. She turned to her dresser, pulling out clean clothes. Mostly her dresser was full of her uniform catsuits, which was her outfit of choice, but she also had several pairs of white tanktops and black leggings. Pepper had tried to get her to go shopping for fancier clothing, but Natasha had refused. They made fighting a whole lot harder.

She dropped the towel and changed quickly into a catsuit. Her job didn’t have time for modesty, and before S.H.I.E.L.D, her agency had beaten the idea that her body was for their uses into her mind; literally. She shivered at the memory, and Hawkeye looked up.

“You ok?” She sat down on the edge of her bed, and he closed his magazine, looking up at her.

“Yeah.” She met his gaze and sighed. “I don’t know.”

“What was your nightmare about?” She ran her fingers through her wet hair, glancing at him. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she didn’t want to reveal that it was about him.

“I’m not ready.” He could understand that. There was still a lot she didn’t know about his past, and vice versa. He also knew that when the time came, she was the one person on Earth he could always rely on, and he was hers. So Hawkeye nodded and sat up.

“Breakfast?”

                                                     *****

Pepper was making food when the two of them got off the elevator on the top floor. Tony and Banner were sitting at the bar, watching her cook, and they looked up.

“I was wondering when you two would get up,” she said, beating some eggs. Natasha sat on a stool next to Stark and Clint sat on her other side.

“You’ve got a hand shaped bruise on your neck,” Tony commented unhelpfully. She shot him a glare and zipped her catsuit up to her chin, resting an elbow on the counter. Even after living with her for several months, her face was still unreadable and emotionless. Still, the assassins were always the first ones up in the kitchen, and everyone knew something was up.

“I’ve got a press conference in DC this morning,” Pepper said, pouring eggs into a frying pan. “And then I’ve got a bunch of other things. I’ll be gone all week.” Iron Man grumbled to himself about ‘needing his woman’ while she finished cooking breakfast.

They ate in silence, and shortly afterwards Miss Potts departed for her conference after kissing Tony goodbye. Black Widow and Hawkeye excused themselves to the training room, and the other two watched Star Wars. Everything seemed normal, but things are not always as they seem.

                                              *****

A week and a half later.

“Open this door,” Thor growled, pounding on the bottom entrance to Stark Towers to no avail. In one hand he held his hammer, and he was already considering breaking down the door when it opened. He stepped inside, and heard locks slide into place behind him.

“Sir,” a cool British accent came out of nowhere, making Thor startle. There was a pause, and then the God heard Tony’s voice come through, again the origin unknown.

“What do you want, Jarvis?” He sounded annoyed.

“Stark, it is I, Thor,” he spoke loudly, not sure where to say it into, and electing to speak to the ceiling. After another lengthy pause, the elevator door at the end of the hall slid open for him. He entered, and the strange contraption began to rise. Odin’s son would never fail to be amazed by the odd new things humanity created. After a short time, the door slid open once again and he stepped into another room. It was the top floor of the tower, remodeled from the last time he’d been on Earth. The other Avengers, minus Captain America, were all standing a few feet away. “Oh it is good to see you, friends,” he chuckled, clapping each of them on the back before looking down at them.

“It’s good to see you too Thor, but why the hell are you here?” Natasha got straight down to the point. He motioned for them to sit down, and they did, taking their seats around the kitchen table.

“I’m afraid it’s not anything good.” Stark raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘duh.’

“Fantastic, continue.”

“Loki has escaped.” Utter silence fell, as they all stared at him, incredulous.

“I must have heard you wrong, did you just say Loki escaped?” Bruce’s mouth was slightly agape. “How the hell did he manage that? You’re freaking Gods, and you can’t keep one villain locked up?”

“We were attacked, my mother-” he swallowed, then straightened himself. “Loki now commands much of Asgard. He tricked the kingdom into thinking he was my father, and by the time we learned the truth, it was too late.” Barton looked to be grinding his teeth so hard he couldn’t speak, and Agent Romanoff’s hands were curled into fists.

“Any other bombshells, big guy?” Stark ran his hand over his beard with a sigh.

“I believe he will target Earth. He was always a sore loser,” he tried and failed to make a joke. They all stared at him with blank faces. “It is the perfect opportunity for him, and I know my brother well. He will take Earth to spite me.”

“Well, forgive me, but you don’t sound very confident that he’ll fail,” Bruce stared at him. Thor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, nearly too large to fit in it.

“The strength of Asgard is great.” He straightened his back. “But I will fight to the death.”

                                                *****

Steve Rogers was in his hotel room, studying the map tacked to the wall when his phone rang. He pulled it out and sighed, seeing who the caller was, but answered it nonetheless.

“Stark, what do you want? I’m kinda busy.” Captain America held the cell phone to his ear, glancing at his watch then back at the map.

“Rogers, we need you here. The Avengers are reuniting.”

“What for?”

“Just get your ass to Stark Towers, I’ll explain once you get here. Hurry.” The line went dead and he slammed the phone frustratedly into the table.

“I have to go,” he muttered angrily, glaring at the cell phone as if it personally had done him the injustice. The Falcon looked up at him from his seat in front of the laptop.

“I’ll come with. You know that.” There was no point in arguing with him. Samuel had followed him around the world, and his partner wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“How soon can we be in New York?” He too checked his watch, then entered something into the computer.

“Twelve hours.” The soldier nodded, swiping up his duffel bag from the floor and starting to throw things into it.

“No time to waste.”

**  
  
**

                                                   *****

It was two am by the time Steve and Sam stepped out of the elevator on the top floor, holding their bags. Rogers dropped his bag and walked over to the table they were all sitting at, taking the empty seat across from Banner. Falcon dropped into Penny’s empty chair.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m here? I was kinda in the middle of something.” Stark was eying the man beside him suspiciously, but after a small nod from Natasha, he cleared his throat.

“Loki’s coming back.” He shot a quick look at Thor, who was playing with the glass of scotch in his hand.

“I’ll skip the part where I ask how the hell he escaped, and go straight to the - him and what army?” In other circumstances, it could have been a joke. He was serious.

“Asgard,” Black Widow said, raising the scotch bottle to her mouth and gulping some while the newcomer stared at her incredulously.

“She’s Russian,” Stark pointed out helpfully, and he went ‘oohhh’ with sudden understanding.

“And let me guess. He wants to take over Earth.”

“What else?” A collective groan ran around the table while the newcomers looked downfallen. Wordlessly, the assassin poured each of them a glass. They drank in silence.

“What about S.H.I.E.L.D?” Falcon asked hopefully. Barton shook his head and drained his glass, allowing Tasha to pour him another.

“How many warriors are there?” Thor shrugged.

“A couple thousand.”  

“Fantastic,” Steve groaned, standing up to pick his bag back up.

“Where are you going?” Falcon rose and joined him by the elevator.

**“We’re moving in.”**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be torture in this chapter.

Natasha woke to the sound of her door opening. She silently slid a hand under her pillow, wrapping her fingers around the gun she always kept there. The door closed and she tensed, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and scanning the room. She heard a sound from the other side, her window, and saw a shadowy shape silhouetted against the outside sky. Cursing, she glanced towards the bathroom. From where she was, it would take exactly eleven seconds to get through to her secret escape route. She didn’t have that long. A figure loomed towards her, tall and large, and she whipped her gun out, only to realize a split second later that he was wearing armour.

“Shit!” She hissed, whirling out of bed in a flash of blankets, kicking the legs out from under the first man, only to be grabbed from behind by another, a hand roughly covering her mouth. She kicked off the person, flipping over their head and onto the floor.

The minute she hit the ground she realized her mistake. She turned just in time for a fist to come out of no where, catching her on the jaw and knocking her backwards into the one that had grabbed her. The dark figure she had seen outside her window had made it inside while she’d been fighting the other two. Again the second guy grabbed her, this time twisting her arms violently behind her back. The window man approached, slamming an armoured arm into the side of her skull with such force that it nearly knocked her unconscious.

“Barton!” She yelled, stomping on the second man’s foot and kicking him in the shins, making him drop her with a yelp of pain. Black Widow leapt at the third soldier, wrapping an arm around his head and squeezing to cut of his air supply, but almost immediately the first man grabbed her arm and yanked it backwards. Everyone in the room heard her shoulder pop out of place, and her sharp intake of breath. If they thought she would stop fighting then, they were sorely mistaken.

She dropped to the ground, flipping backwards into a standing position behind one of her assailants. Kicking the backs of his kneecaps, she grabbed him by the hair as he fell, slamming his head into the wall and knocking him out. “CLINT!” She screamed, but something in the pit of her stomach told her that he couldn’t come to help her. Fire burned in her eyes as she leapt at the third man again, wrapping her legs around his neck and bringing her good fist down on the top of his head. He swayed, but reached up and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her away and throwing her against the wall. The assassin crashed into it and fell to the ground, already trying to get back to her feet when she was yanked up by the hair. A dark limb flew at her and hit her across the midsection, knocking her breath away. She twisted and kicked, but the one holding her was taller and had longer arms, and was holding her firmly away from his body. She pulled herself up on his arm so she supported her weight and not her hair, and bit down on his bare skin.

“AGHHH!” He yelled, releasing her hair and grabbing his bleeding arm with his other hand.

She took the opportunity to get back on her feet, grab his shoulders, and slam her knee up between his legs. He fell with a strangled cry, leaving just the third one- the man that had come through the window- remaining. He stepped over his fallen comrade, swiping for her with an ironclad fist. Agent Romanoff ducked, pushing off the wall to fly at him and hit him square in the chest with both feet. He staggered, but managed to grab her leg and pull her crashing down on the floor too. She tried to disentangle herself from him, but the guy kept a firm grip on her leg. She had the advantage of having fallen on top of him, but he had both arms wrapped around her knee, hugging it to his chest. She slammed her foot into his face, but although he cried out in pain, he didn’t release her. She snarled angrily, slamming it down again, harder, until he finally let go and she pushed away from him, getting to her feet. It was then that she realized there was another person in the room.

Unfortunately, she figured this out when a heavy ceramic vase came crashing down on her head, and she crumpled to the floor as the world faded away.

                                                    *****

Clint Barton came to a few hours later, sitting up instantly. He took a breath and coughed, tasting something foul in the air. He leapt out of bed, stumbling to the door and throwing it open. The distinctive taste of sleep gas was still heavy in his mouth, his head still swimming in fog.

“No no no dammit,” he managed to get Natasha’s door open and fumble his way inside. The room was a mess, toppled furniture, a dent in the plaster wall, blood on the floor. “NO GOD DAMMIT,” he screamed hoarsely, making his way down the hallway and kicking open Steve’s door. The noise made the soldier jerk awake, his eyes wide as he raised a fist in defense. The room in here, too, tasted foul. “Out, we’ve been gassed,” he panted, trying to breath as little as possible as he exited and crossed the hall to pull Banner too out of bed. He left the two of them to get Falcon and Thor and meet him upstairs, while he went to retrieve Tony.

                                                  *****

Natasha groaned, her head throbbing, and raised her chin off her chest. She could tell that her arms and legs were cuffed to a chair, and after squirming to no avail, she realized the chair was also anchored to the ground. She opened her eyes, the bright light nearly blinding her after so much darkness. It took a minute to adjust, but the room eventually came into view. She was restrained to a reinforced chair, which was welded to a metal plate of the floor. The blank cement walls and bright overhead lights reminded her of a time she had been held and interrogated in Russia. It wasn’t a pleasant memory.

Carefully she rolled her head around, then started to do damage assessment. Her shoulder was dislocated and her knee throbbed dully, but it would hold. She could tell by the sticky warmth at the top of her head that she was bleeding, and her shoulders and back were littered with shallow cuts. Her face was swollen badly along her jaw and cheek, but she was relatively whole. Her main concern was popping her shoulder back into place- fighting with a useless limb was not ideal. Unless she could get out of these cuffs, she’d need someone else to do it for her.

Black Widow’s thoughts were interrupted as the heavy metal door in the corner opened, and three men entered the room. She could tell by the armour and strange clothing that they were indeed Asgardian, and none of them looked very happy.

“You took out three men in the tower and another three on the ride here,” the tallest one said, glowering down at her.

“What can I say, I have that effect on people.” She tilted her head so her hair fell out of her face and raised her chin defiantly.

“Where is Loki’s scepter?” She kept her face expressionless, but inside her mind was whirring. After the battle of New York, S.H.I.E.L.D had confiscated the scepter. To her knowledge, it was still secured in the underground vaults the agency had all over the country. Loki would need it to bend more people to his will. After a moment, the man turned and nodded to the others, who left, and returned with a metal table on wheels. They pushed it into the room and returned to their positions guarding the door. She pretended to be bored. Gerd picked up a long knife, pressing the tip into her neck and dragging it down to her collarbone, drawing a line of red across her pale skin.

Suddenly, with no warning, he drove the knife through her abdomen, causing her to gasp and bite her tongue hard to keep from crying out. Her chest heaved as a bloody rose blossomed on her white tank top, spreading slowly over the fabric. The man examined her reaction, but didn’t remove the knife. Instead, he took the handle and twisted it slowly, watching the colour drain from her face as she closed her eyes, refusing to make a noise. The captive’s lips were pressed so hard together they were white, but when she opened her eyes, he was surprised and a little scared. He was used to seeing fear, pain, even tears in his victim’s eyes. Hers, though, were full of a hatred that was so strong it nearly knocked him back. This was more than he had bargained for.

He hit her in her ribs, drew back, and hit again. He could feel bone breaking beneath his knuckles, and switched to her other side to do the same. Still, she showed no fear, uttered no cries of pain. This human had experienced much torture before, he knew, but Loki had been sure that his influences would get her to talk. He was starting to wonder if his king had been mistaken. She looked about ready to rip his face off, and he found himself once again eying her restraints nervously, as if any minute she would break free and attack him. It had taken four highly trained Asgard assassins to take her down, and on the journey here she had managed to take down another three despite being handcuffed and unarmed. Natasha Romanoff was known as the best assassin of Midgard, and it was becoming apparent that she was also better than any Asgardian.

**  
  
**

 

                                                         *****

Several hours later, Natasha still hadn’t screamed or uttered a single sound. Her silent glaring hatred was starting to make all of the Asgardians antsy and uncomfortable, and they were all starting to fiddle nervously. Her shirt was soaked with blood, and the knife was still protruding from her stomach. The woman’s face was bruised and bleeding, long gouges torn in her cheeks from spiked iron knuckles. Every breath she took was a new painful jab to her chest, and she knew several of her ribs were broken from where he had hit her. Her chest and shoulders were littered with deep deliberate cuts and bruises, and every time she took a breath fresh blood glistened on her skin. Gerd was just starting in on her dislocated arm when the door banged open, causing everyone to startle- except the hostage, who had heard the approaching footsteps. Loki stood in the doorway, dressed in his normal green and black robes and armour, his eyes narrowed.

“Ohh, you’re really not looking too hot,” he tsked, kicking the door shut and drawing closer, looking to her torturer. “Anything?” Gerd shook his head.

“No, my lord, she’s proven quite difficult. She hasn’t made a noise.” The god of mischief hissed through his teeth, looking displeased but not at all surprised.

“I was hoping she would prove more cooperative, but I should have known better.” He eyed her for another minute, then whipped out a phone. “Maybe our dear Avengers will be inclined to...spare you some extra pain.” As always she kept her face unreadable, merely watching him with large green eyes, barely contained rage boiling inside her. It took everything she had not to try and break free and claw his eyes out, so she settled for picturing him going up in flames and writhing in pain instead.

                                                       *****

Tony’s phone rang, and he whipped it out, glancing at the others. The caller ID was unknown, and they were requesting a video call. After a nod from Bruce, he picked up. The screen turned black for a minute, and then Loki’s face appeared, grinning.

“Hello, Stark, what a pleasure.” Tony flicked his finger, causing the phone’s screen to transfer to the large video screen in the living room, where they all were sitting.

“What do you want, assface,” he snarled untactfully.

“Such anger, you should be more grateful towards me, Stark. I tried to save you. And doctor, you might as well stop, this phone is untraceable.” Banner looked up at Tony, and shook his head. Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“Where’s Miss Romanoff, Loki,” he hissed, getting straight to the point.

“Why, she’s right here, but I don’t think she wants to talk to you, she hasn’t really been doing much of that.” There was a scuffle and then the sickening crunch of knuckles hitting flesh. Barton was on his feet, his hands clenched into fists.

“I swear to god, Loki, if you’ve-” he was cut off.

“Honesty, Barton, have some self respect, you’re on speaker. Would you like to see her?” Without waiting for a response, he turned the camera towards her. She looked like she’d been to hell and back. She was covered in her own blood, bruised and battered, with a knife sticking out of her stomach. Still she held her chin high, and they all knew she hadn’t and wouldn’t give Loki what he wanted, even if it killed her.

Anyone but Clint wouldn’t have noticed the tiny twitches, the patterns to her blinking, or the slightest of motions she made, but he knew her better than he knew himself. She blinked four times rapidly to let him know there were four people in the room. Her left arm twitched, and that combined with the odd angle and dark bruising around her shoulder, he concluded that it was dislocated. The knife wound was obvious, but her breathing was too shallow for just that, broken ribs? Her three blinks confirmed it. He blinked twice to show he understood, trying to convey his anger and determination to get her out of there. Loki handed the phone to someone and came around so he was standing in the picture, behind Natasha.

“We thought we’d ask you for a little information.” He picked up another knife, wiping the blade clean on a small hand towel. “I’d like to know the whereabouts of my scepter.”

“We’re not telling you squat,” Falcon spat. Loki rolled his eyes, pressing the knife deep into the skin right below her collarbone, dragging it across from one shoulder to the other. The cut was deep, immediately spilling more blood down her front and she closed her eyes for a second.

“You sick sick bastard,” they were all on their feet now.

“If you keep cutting her she’s going to bleed out,” Bruce glared at Loki, barely containing his anger. Tony muttered something, and he nodded, leaving the room. They didn’t need him to hulk out right now.

“He’s right,” the god tapped his chin, placing the bloodied knife back on the tray. As if getting a brilliant idea, he picked up a bag, reaching his hand inside and pulling out a handful of large salt crystals. “I’ve never actually tried this before,” he said conversationally, using two fingers to hold the cut wide open. “But I’m told it’s excruciating.” Loki started packing the salt into her wound, watching her as if he was conducting a science experiment. Her face remained stoic, her eyes narrowed to slits.

“Loki I’m going to motherfucking kill you,” Hawkeye said levelly, trembling with rage. The Asgardian’s face split into a maniacal grin.

“Don’t worry, Agent Barton,” he finished, a straight line of red stained salt crystals across her chest. “I’m not going to kill her.” he took her chin in his fingers, running his index finger along her jaw. He turned to look at the screen, his grin wide. “You are.”

“Loki, I thought you were misguided,” Thor growled with disgust. “But no. Your mind is rotten to the core.” His brother’s smile faltered, replaced with anger. He looked back to his prisoner, raising a fist and punching her square in the face. He turned and walked around her, grabbing a fistful of Natasha’s red curls and yanking her head up.

“You are the one that is misguided, Thor,” he snarled. “For putting faith in such weak creatures as these.” He shook her head hard before releasing her hair. He straightened, staring at the camera malevolently. “You will retrieve my scepter and call me back. She doesn’t have time to waste.”

                               The screen went black once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Their worst mistake was not feeding her. After a week and a half, she knew she could slip her hands out of the cuffs. From there it would be simple enough to pick the locks on her ankles and break out.

 

The past week Black Widow had barely slept at all, but even the Asgardian had to pause from torture to rest sometimes. He’d managed to put another knife through her and break another two ribs, but mostly she was freshly bruised and cut all over. At least she’d gotten enough water when he’d water boarded her, but since between moving her she managed to put one of the guards into a coma, he hadn’t gone back to that option.  
Now he had left her alone with one guard, who was staring absently at the far wall. This was her chance. As carefully and with as little movement at possible, she started sliding her hands free of the cuffs. It took her only a minute, but she had to stop and take a breath. There would only be a tiny amount of time for her to unlock her ankles before the guard came at her.

In one swift practiced motion, she pulled the bobby pin from her hair and went at her left cuff like a talented maniac. The guard was so shocked he didn’t react for a second, staring blankly with his mouth slightly agape. But then he pulled his act together and ran at her as if to knock her over. Unfortunately, one ankle was still attached to the leg of her chair. He bowled into her, knocking her sideways and twisting her ankle, but his momentum carried him past her and sent him falling to the ground. That gave her the time she needed to break free of the other lock. The guy was on his feet again, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than her, but it didn’t matter. Natasha leapt onto the chair and right at him, her good arm coming down on his skull with a sickening crunch. Not waiting for a response, she wrapped one leg around his neck and overbalanced him, crashing both of them to the floor and disentangling herself at the last second. She paused only to watch the light fade from his eyes before turning to look at the instrument tray.

Gerd had been stupid enough to leave it there, and so she took up the third of the same knifes she had in her abdomen, gripping it tightly. The door opened from the inside- it would be suicide to lock themselves in there with her- and so she slipped into the hallway with little difficulty, looking around. Since both hallways were identical, she took the left one, limping down it and turning at the corner. The walls were the same cement her cell had been made of, and she wondered briefly if they were underground. But when she reached the end of the next hall, there was a staircase, and it went down.

Another set of guards was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, but she had the higher ground. Her aim was excellent- the knife hit the first one in the throat and he collapsed, gasping like a fish out of water as blood poured down his chest. The other one tackled her, knocking the knives around painfully, but a strong elbow to his face helped her scramble to her feet before him, slamming a foot down on his throat and pressing until his eyes fluttered shut. Black Widow retrieved her weapon from the other one, whose eyes were wide and bulging as he fruitlessly tried to stop the bleeding. She looked down at him for a minute as if she was going to end his suffering, but then she turned and kept walking.

The assassin checked on her stomach wounds. The jostling had caused a small amount of fresh blood to trickle down her already red soaked shirt. She couldn’t risk taking them out now, since skin was already healing around the blades, and it would just reopen the wounds. That would have to wait until she had help and a blood transfusion. For now her focus was getting out and back home.

It didn’t take her long to find a door to the outside. She met five more guards on the way, but she was ready. By the time she kicked open the door to freedom, at least six Asgardians had been killed in her wake. It didn’t matter to her, it was what she had been trained to do, and what she did best. It was them or her.

Outside she looked back at the building. It seemed to be an abandoned two story warehouse, but if she looked closely through the tinted windows, the lights were on inside. The little place was surrounded by rolling green hills dotted with trees, a cloudy grey sky going easy on her eyes. She started walking in the direction of telephone poles over the hills, constantly scanning for signs of life. A one lane asphalt road in need of serious repair wound its way sadly through the sea of green, and she followed it. Though the pain in her ankle was nothing compared to that of the rest of her body, it wasn’t at full strength, and her limp became apparent after a while. Natasha’s left arm hang useless at her side, and she still held the knife firmly in her right.

About an hour later she spotted a lone pickup truck making its way slowly towards her. She held out a thumb, and it slowed to a stop. A minute later the guy hopped out, tipping the brim of his baseball cap up so he could see.  
“Miss, you ain’t looking too, oh god, Miss, are you alright?” He hurried over to her, holding out a hand to offer assistance, which she waved off. He took in the sight of her, matted hair and beaten to a pulp, limping along with half her blood spilled down her front.  
“Where am I?” She made her way over to the truck, and grudgingly accepted his help in hoisting her up into the seat. He closed the door and ran back around, leaping in and slamming the driver’s door.  
“You’re in South Carolina, ‘bout 60 miles from the nearest town. Miss, what happened to you?” She ignored his question.  
“I need to make a phone call.” He started up the car and fumbled a small cellphone out of his pocket, handing it over. “Thank you,” she said curtly, reaching for her seatbelt then thinking better of it, instead pressing a hand to her stomach and dialing. Clint picked up.  
“Hello?”  
“Clint, it‘s me.” She heard a clattering and him hurriedly pressing a button.  
“Nat, god, are you okay? Where are you?”  
“I’ll survive. I’m in South Carolina, sixty miles outside of…” she looked to the driver. “Edgefield.”  
“Edgefield,” she repeated. She heard hurried voices in the background.  
“I can be there in an hour and a half, where?” Again she looked to the guy.  
“110 Bauskett Street.” She again reiterated what he had said.  
“Is there enough room to land a small jet there?” The guy’s eye’s widened at her question, but he nodded.  
“Yes ma’am.”  
“Okay, Tasha, I’m coming to get you. Stay safe.” The call ended and she threw the phone onto his lap.  
“Name’s Ed by the way, yours?” He was playing with the brim of his hat.  
“Natasha.”  
“Okay Natasha. Er…” he rubbed his head. “How did you get like this?”  
“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” Ed started to chuckle, saw her face, and stopped. They rode the rest of the way in silence, him humming to himself and sending her sidelong glances as the truck made its way over the hills.

                                                                     *****

  
They arrived only minutes before Barton. Ed lived on the outside of town, in a small blue house with a spacious yard neatly bordered by a white picket fence. He pulled into the long driveway, coming to a stop in front of a garage.  
“Here we are, Miss. I got some little kids, so…” She cut him off.  
“I don’t need to come inside, my ride will be here any minute.” Natasha pushed open the door and carefully got out. Ed came around the truck. “And thank you,” she added as an afterthought.  
“Course Miss, anytime.” The man tipped his cap and left her standing in the driveway. She was watching the sky when a black dot came into view, quickly growing bigger and closer as she saw it transform into a sleek black plane. Moments later it had landed and rolled to a stop in the yard. Almost before it stopped, the hatch opened and Hawkeye jumped out, running over to her.  
“Tasha, god, I’m sorry.” It took all she had not to hug him, but that would just cause her even more pain. Instead she let him wrap her good arm around his shoulders and guide her into the plane. Once they were inside, they took off, set to autopilot to take them back home.

The small jet wasn’t made for comfort. They sat on one of the hard chairs on the sides of the plane. Black Widow rested her head in his lap, stretching out on the bench with a grimace. He brushed the hair ever so gently out of her eyes, careful not to hurt her bruised and bloodied face. Nor for the first time she wondered how he was able to shoot someone through the heart with his arrow, but still be so…..soft, when he wanted. All her life they’d taught her she was a killer, a weapon, nothing else. Barely human, they’d called her. Barton gave her hope that someday she could be more.  
“Tasha, you can get some sleep,” he said quietly. “You’re safe.” She nodded gratefully. There wasn’t much he could do to help her until they got back, and all she really wanted to do was drift off for a while. She slid her good arm up and he took her hand, slipping his fingers through hers, his grip strong and warm. It made her feel safer. In only minutes she had fallen into a deep sleep.

*****  
Natasha slept all the way to Stark Towers, and only woke hazily to find herself being carried inside. Her muscles tensed before she realized it was Barton holding her, and then they had entered the living room.  
“Is she okay?” She turned her head enough to see the rest of them standing in the living room, Pepper talking with her arms crossed. Clint set her down gently on the couch.  
“Banner, she needs medical attention.” Bruce scratched his head and adjusted his glasses.  
“It’d really be better to go to a hospital,” he muttered. Natasha and Barton both glared at him while he squirmed. “I just don’t have everything they do!”  
“I’ll get you everything you need,” he set up some pillows to make her more comfortable then crossed his arms over his chest.  
“She’s got serious abdominal wounds, she’s going to need surgery, it’s a miracle she’s even lived this long,” the Hulk tried. Black Widow shook her head carefully.  
“He knew what he was doing, he wanted me to live,” she coughed, spitting blood out onto her hand before continuing. “They didn’t hit any organs, I’m positive.” Steve hurried to her, carrying a cup of water, which she sipped gratefully. Finally Banner broke and went off with Hawkeye to get supplies, leaving her to drift back to sleep.

                   

                                                                 *****

  
Natasha was sitting up on the couch, Banner kneeling on the floor in front of her. Steve, Pepper, Thor, and Falcon were all gathered around at a respectful distance, looking concerned. Tony was sprawled on the other couch, and Hawkeye was sitting next to her. The doctor was busy hooking her up to an IV, which was hanging from a stolen drip pole.  
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” he muttered, fiddling with a shot of morphine.  
“No morphine,” they said at the same time, causing him to blink and look up.  
“No morphine? Why? How am I supposed to god damn work?” The two assassins exchanged a dark look.  
“You do not want to see her on morphine,” he shook his head. “It gets bad.” Tony was sitting up, looking interested.  
“What kind of bad?” She shot him a look that could freeze fire, and Pepper narrowed her eyes from across the room.  
“You aren’t giving me morphine if you want to keep your reproductive organs,” she hissed when he held up the needle in frustration. Hawkeye dug around in another bag and pulled out a few bottles of pills, shaking them. He glanced at her while jiggling a few of each into his palm, nodding at her for confirmation.  
“Hey, you can’t just give her a bunch of pills, she could overdose,” Banner protested weakly.  
“We’re partners, we know each other’s doses,” he replied calmly, handing the medicine to her and watching her swallow. There wasn’t much the doctor could do, and it was true that the guy knew her better than he did.

“Fine, we’re going to start at the worst and work our way down. If you’re right that it didn’t hit any organs, we won’t need to do surgery, but there’ll still be bleeding.” His brow furrowed. “And I’ll have to pull it out the exact same way it went in.”  
“No,” she shook her head yet again, looking a bit dizzy for it but shaking it off. “It won’t matter.” At his confused look she rolled her eyes. “He twisted them.” Over in the corner, the Falcon looked mixed between wanting to puke and wanting to punch something, and the rest of them were wearing similar expressions.  
“Ah.” He was pulling on rubber gloves. “Well, what’s your blood type?” Clint held up a bag of 0 negative in response, hanging it and putting it too into her arm.  
“You’re making me feel like you’re the doctor,” Banner muttered, gripping the hilt of the first knife. He started pulling it out slowly, having Clint hold a wad of gauze underneath the wound as blood started to flow. Her face was expressionless, but Hawkeye knew the pain medicine hadn’t yet kicked in. She was too well trained to show any weakness, but he knew her too well to be fooled.

Oblivious, Banner removed the first knife and carefully did the second one. They cut away the tank top, which was beyond repair anyways, to better get to her wounds. There was barely a spot on her skin that wasn’t bruised and cut. Clint was holding gauze to the two holes in her stomach while the doctor threaded a needle to stitch them up, but her entire abdomen was some shade of black to green with crusted blood over some parts. The darkest bruising on her torso was along her broken ribs, dark purple lines of tender skin. The previous neckline of her tank top was apparent, showing when the bruising turned to bruising and long deep cuts, most prominent of which was the thick straight cut running from shoulder to shoulder.

Pepper looked away while Bruce stitched her wounds, moving on to wrap her ribs with thick white bandages. She was wearing a sports bra, which he carefully worked around while fixing up her ribs so they’d heal properly. He cleaned out each cut with disinfectant and a good number of them needed stitches, including the long one and the gash across her cheekbone. When he’d finally finished stitching she looked like purple frankenstein.  
“I’ve got to set the shoulder,” he mumbled, putting his hands in place to push it back in. “Ready?” She nodded, and he quickly popped her shoulder back into place, not getting a sound from her. Banner put her arm in a sling and looked up at her questioningly.  
“My ankle,” she muttered. Hawkeye unzipped her combat boots and rolled her socks off. One of her ankles was puffy pink and swollen, and both had cuts from where the cuffs had dug into her. The doctor wrapped up her foot, then also bandaged her other ankle and wrists so the cuts from the restraints would heal. Finally he stood up.  
“How does that feel?”  
“Fine, thank you, Bruce,” she said quietly, patting his arm lightly. Wordlessly Pepper trotted over holding a bowl of soup.  
“You need to adjust slowly to eating,” she said, handing Hawkeye the bowl. He sat down next to her, holding it out so she could use the spoon to eat it slowly. She was too tired to argue. Natasha paced herself, when all she really wanted to do was wolf down everything in the kitchen. Instead she settled for finishing the small bowl of soup.

Afterwards she was so exhausted it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. Always alert to her body language, Hawkeye stood up and helped her lay back down on the couch, pulling a soft blanket over her.  
“Keep this arm up,” he pulled the arm with the IV to rest above the blanket, giving her a small smile. “The last time I spent an hour untangling these.” She snorted sleepily but kept her arm out as he had instructed. Clint hung a fresh bag and gave her more pain medicine, adding sleeping pills too. She took them obediently, glad that she would be able to rest. The effect was almost immediate, causing her eyelids to droop and her limbs to feel heavy. Vaguely she registered Tony and Pepper heading off to bed together, and a while later Bruce, the Falcon, and Steve left also. Barton had settled on the couch with her head in his lap, his ever comforting presence lulling her closer to the brink of sleep. Thor too had left now, and Jarvis had turned off the lights. Moonlight spilled from the outside across the carpet, illuminating the room in a warm milky glow.

She looked up at Barton, whose expression was soft and gentle. She knew he would stay awake and alert, and the sense of security that it brought her outweighed the feelings of guilt that he wouldn’t sleep. She gave him one of her small smiles, the ones he said she used too rarely, to let him know how grateful she was. He knew. And with that comforting thought, she drifted off to sleep. Though eventually her normal nightmares took over, she first dreamed of floating gently down a river, one as clear and crystal blue as Clint’s eyes.

                                                                  *****


	5. Chapter 5

It was two weeks later, and Natasha was already working hard to get back to her full strength. When she was given a normal recovery time, it was customary for her to cut that into a sixth and give herself only that. She was up before dawn in the mornings in the training room, and it wasn’t long before Clint joined her. The others had protested, telling her that she wasn’t well enough, but he just quietly helped her. He understood that she didn’t have time to rest up and heal like normal people. It meant weakness, and in their line of work, weakness meant death.

It was the second week since Black Widow’s return, and there had been no sign of enemy activity on the radar. The others had finally agreed to let them go things out on their own, only after reassurance that they would call for backup if they found anything.  
So now the two assassins were flying low over South Carolina in the sleek black plane, scanning the hills below for the building where Natasha had been held. Barton glanced sideways at her from his position in the pilot’s seat. Much of her bruising had faded, and all that remained was around her wrists and ribs. The many cuts were turning into thick pink scars, which would eventually fade into thin silvery ones and join the many other scars she had already. She was back in spiff fighting shape, but he could tell that her ribs continued to pain her. Still, Clint knew she was back, and they were both itching to do something about Loki.

Natasha wanted to search the building, even though it was likely the so called king had moved his operations when she had escaped. It was possible he had left something behind, either on purpose or on accident, and she intended to discover it. So they found themselves zooming over green countryside early in the morning, before the sun had risen. It didn’t take them long to find it, the only structure for miles around. Clint steered them into a perfect landing, bouncing for a bit before finally rolling to a stop.

They strode across the green grass to the building, alert and watchful as always. It wasn’t a good sign that the door was unlocked, but they went inside anyway. To each side there was a set of stairs, one still crusted with blood. With a nod, Natasha took one staircase and Barton took the other. They scanned the entire building, and ended up standing in the hallway outside a thick metal door. It was the last room to be searched, and Natasha’s previous cell was the most likely place for Loki to leave them a message. They stood in silence for a moment, then in silence, Natasha opened the door and stalked inside.

The room hadn’t been cleaned since she’d been there. The tray of bloody instruments was still on the small table, and the cement floor was stained with her blood. Black Widow kicked the table aside, kneeling down to pick up the piece of paper lying on the ground. Barton followed her inside, taking in the room without saying anything. She stood back up, holding the paper as her eyes slid across the page. Clint came over to read over her shoulder.

‘Dearest Miss Romanoff,  
I hope you are well. Don’t think it’s going to be so easy to find me, you must know by now that I am too smart for that. I presume Barton is there too, aren’t you, Clint. Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me soon enough, my friend.  
And Miss Romanoff, don’t go forgetting what I told you. I keep my promises.’

She looked sideways at Hawkeye quickly, fearing the worst. His eyes were an electric blue, too light, too bright.  
“Shit,” she dropped the note and raised her hands just above her head, taking a step backwards. “Clint, it’s me, okay?” Natasha ducked his fist only to be caught by the second punch to her stomach. “Clint,” she persisted, staring into his eyes, trying to find the person she knew inside them. His eyebrows were knit together, both in confusion and anger. Still he pushed her, forcing Natasha to keep stepping back. “Barton, listen to me,” this time when he moved towards her she stepped forwards instead of back, coming only inches away from him. “Listen to me,” she grabbed his face in her hands, cupping it. “You don’t want to hurt me, it’s me, Natasha.”

“Natasha?” His eyes flashed back, but then he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head up, his gaze once again too blue to really be him. Black Widow didn’t release her grip on his face, continued to meet his angry gaze unblinkingly.  
“Clint, this isn’t you,” she said quietly. He threw her sideways, but she caught herself and flipped back into an upright position, once again raising her hands. “I don’t want to fight you,” she took a step towards him. “You don’t want to hurt me, either,” the red head added calmly, tilting her head at him. She could see the muscles rippling uncertainly in his arms, as if he was both trying to strangle her and restrain himself from doing so. Instead he took a blind swing at her, which she easily avoided.

“CLINT!” Her sudden outburst startled him, the anger drained from his eyes, replaced by confusion and a touch of fear. The blue of his irises crackled with different shades of blue, fighting to envelop each other. The assassin took the opportunity to slap him across the face, hard. He turned his head with the blow, raising one hand to his cheek in surprise as light blue won the battle in his eyes.  
“Tasha?” His voice was small, uncertain, and instead of saying anything, she merely hugged him tightly, running her hand over his head soothingly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair, letting the smell of her wash over him. Her scent matched her personality, not sweet like many other women he had met. She smelled sharp, like the cold air when stars were out, the fresh smell that came after the rain.

They remained that way for a while, and when they broke apart there were no words to be exchanged, no excuses to be explained. The two assassins had a mutual understanding of the way things worked in their little word, and they understood each other so well that it was almost as if they could read each other’s minds. She picked up the note and tucked it into a pocket, giving the room one more look before nodding at him. Together they left the building, the sun now peeking over a hill in the distance. She watched him carefully the whole way back. It was the first time that Loki had ‘spoken’ to him directly, but since Barton hadn’t received any type of orders from him, she didn’t think the episodes would become more regular. Still, Natasha was going to have to keep a closer eye than usual on her partner. She couldn’t let the god of mischief get to him again.

                                                                *****

  
“What!?” Steve snarled, taking a step towards Barton, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were turning white. Black Widow took a step in front of the assassin, something so cold and so angry in her gaze that it froze everyone where they were.  
“Don’t even start,” she hissed, crossing her arms over her bruised ribs.  
“He’s hurting you,” the man exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I can’t let him-,” he was cut off.  
“You don’t let him do a thing, Rogers,” her eyes were shooting daggers at him. “Don’t think for a second that this has anything to do with you. This is my problem.”  
“When it comes to your safety it’s our job to-,” again she interrupted, stepping dangerously close to him.  
“I don’t need a babysitter, soldier, and I don’t need your protection. Don’t think for a second I couldn’t kill you with both hands tied behind my back and dead blind.” She jammed a finger into his chest. “If you try to so much as harm a hair on his head, I will not hesitate to put you in a hospital bed for months.” Thor grabbed Captain America by the shoulder and tugged him back to a safe distance.  
The crew had once again gathered in the spacious living room for the pair’s return, and it had finally come out that Hawkeye was having temporary spells of loyalty to Loki. For the moment he had regained his composure, but his eyes showed how much he was hurting. Natasha’s heart rate was racing, and she looked about ready to make good on her words.  
“She doesn’t mean it, Steve,” Thor clapped him on the back painfully, while the woman in question’s eyebrow twitched with displeasure. Though disgruntled, Steve nodded to her.  
“Alright, I understand he’s your partner, I’m sorry for my reaction.” If he expected her to apologize as well, he was mistaken. Instead she gave him a small nod, and glanced around at the others.  
“Anyone else got a problem?” No one answered, so she pulled out the piece of paper and passed it around. After Tony finished reading it, he looked up.  
“I can’t be the only one wondering what ‘promise’ he means, can I?” They shrugged and all eyes turned to her.  
“It’s not important,” she answered, stone faced. It wasn’t therapy time, and she wasn’t about to bare her soul to them. They were friends, and she trusted them with her life, but nothing as personal as her past. There was only one person on Earth that knew as much or more about her than she did, and that was Hawkeye. “All you need to know is that he promised to kill me.”  
“Fantastic,” the Falcon muttered, taking a seat on the sofa and rubbing a hand over his hair, thinking. “If he wants to take over the world, where would he start?” Pepper chewed on her lip, letting Tony wrap one arm around her waist.  
“Well I would start at the government, right?” Tony nodded slowly, considering his options carefully.  
“Well he wants to do it in a way that will affect us the most, right? I mean, the dude probably wants to lock us all in steel cages and torture us.” Pepper paled and he rubbed her back comfortingly. “Not you, just us.” Thor rolled his eyes.  
“Loki will wish to make this personal, I agree. He’d like to get back at us, which means a power play that we lose. My guess is that he will bring the fight home, right where it hurts.” Tony glanced at him, confused.  
“Wait like, New York? Shouldn’t he have learned by now that it’s our city? You’d think after the first time he’d get the message and start with something exotic like Vegas, but...” he trailed off at the bored look on all of their their faces. The Avengers slowly seated themselves, Hawkeye and Natasha the only two not relaxing, as alert and uptight as ever.  
“We need a plan of action,” Steve commented, earning an eye roll from Iron Man.  
“No shit Sherlock, way to state the obvious,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Tony we don’t have time for you to be childish,” Natasha snapped, receiving blessed silence. “Loki wants to take over the world in the most personal and painful way he can.” No one teased her for stating the obvious. It wasn’t a risk worth taking.  
“Is there any way to track him?” Everyone looked at the scientist with extreme anger management issues, who adjusted his glasses thoughtfully.  
“I mean, is there anything we can track him with, anything unique?” Thor rested his elbows on his knees with a distant look in his eyes, thinking.  
“I don’t believe Loki has anything on his person particularly unique to this world,” he said eventually. “But he wants his scepter, right?” Barton started typing quickly into a small phone sized device.  
“And that’s being held…” they all waited. “In a secret underground SHIELD tunnel system under Vermont.” They no longer questioned the organization’s knack for completely random quarters and tunnels.

“Do we want to try and get it first?” Tony sat back, casually slinging an arm over Pepper’s slim shoulders.  
“Won’t he be expecting that?” Steve threw back.  
“I think we should get it before him,” Samuel shrugged.  
“Why should we care what you think?” Captain America stiffened, but his friend smiled calmly at Stark, in a way that said ‘I’m willing to play by your rules.’ The billionaire sniffed but didn’t continue, for which everyone was grateful.  
“I think it would be safer with us,” Thor said quietly, watching them all while resting his chin in his hands.  
“So we go get it,” Natasha stated, sparing a look at her partner who nodded.  
“Any volunteers on who wants to run this little plan by Fury or are we going under the radar?”  
“Please, Fury doesn’t exactly have his organization together,” she rolled her eyes. “Barton and I can get in and out in no time.” Steve looked up.  
“Why are you assuming you’ll go alone?”  
“I don’t know, because we’re the ones trained in covert operations, we’re employees of S.H.I.E.L.D and know Fury personally? Or maybe because we’ve been there before, or we actually know what the hell we’re doing,” Hawkeye said coolly.  
“Afraid he’s got you there Steve.” Tony gave him a look. “If anyone can get in and out in time, it’s those two.” He leaned closer. “Plus, she could kick your ass, and I don’t think she’s in a good mood.” The look she gave him told the man that she not only was the most skilled assassin in the world, but she also had remarkable hearing. “Oops.”  
Steve sat back in his chair, deciding to try and swallow his pride. “Alright, we’ll do things your way this time. Plan of action is get in, get the staff and get back out. I’ve got every confidence that you two can do that no problem.”  
Natasha and Clint looked to each other, not needing to say a word right away about their plan of action.  
“We’ll be back in time for dessert easy,” Clint said in a light tone. Natasha gave him a look and rolled her eyes, heading towards the elevator to prepare herself.  
“Alright, while they are doing that, Bruce and I will begin working on a way to try and combat Loki’s latest little scheme.” Tony stood up from the table, looking to Pepper for a moment. “Afraid it’ll be a late night.”  
“That’s alright, I need to prepare for an upcoming meeting myself. You two have fun with your tech.” She smiled as she stood up, walking off to take a shower.  
“Then the rest of us will stay on standby and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, and see if we can find anything on Loki.” Steve stood up from the table, making his way with Thor and Falcon to watch the monitors for any signs of activity. They settled in, prepared for a long day, while the two scientists hurried off to their lab.

                                                                   *****

 

They weren’t home by dessert.

Natasha and Clint set off later that afternoon, once again seated in the small black plane. This time she was flying, watching the ground closely as they neared their destination. Her partner was rubbing his head with a look of pain on his face, eyes closed. The headache had been plaguing him all day, and it was just now starting to get worse to a point where she had forced him to take medicine. They hadn’t talked at all during the flight- his pain had been too much for him to concentrate- so as she cleared her throat, he looked up with surprise.  
“You’re not going in.” Hawkeye let his hand fall away from his head in order to stare at her.  
“Like hell I’m letting you go in there alone,” he replied, trying to keep anger from creeping into his voice. She merely looked back at the land below, steering them slightly East.  
“It’s not a question, Clint,” she said quietly, her eyes still on the monitor. “You’re not in shape right now, you can hardly see straight.” He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. “I’ll be fine on my own, you know that.” She turned to look at him, her dazzling green gaze meeting his equally bright blue one.  
“I know,” he murmured, glancing at his shaking fingers. “I’d be a liability.” There was silence for a moment as the plane descended smoothly. “I just…” their eyes locked, blue swimming in deep green rivers between them. She rested a hand on his shoulder, ever so gently. The strength was there, but it was...soft. He felt his skin tingle as he put his hand on top of her small one, squeezing it.  
“It’s ok, Clint,” her voice was as soft as her touch, a weakness she had only for him. No one else knew this side of her, the one that wasn’t so protected, so strong.  
So instead of using words, like most people, they already knew what the other was thinking. He trusted her with his life, his sanity, and everything he had. It was both a blessing and a curse, because to have such a weakness in their work could be deadly. For some reason, he didn’t care. It was a lonely life they lived, and he’d rather it be shorter with her, then longer without. And despite everything he’d learned, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t trust her with, anything he wouldn’t do for her.  
Flashback.  
The day he’d been sent to kill her, he had smashed through the window of her hotel room, gun raised, and the woman he saw wasn’t nearly what he had expected. Her target lay dead on the bed, eyes glassy and unseeing, clothes tousled. She was young, maybe sixteen, but from the way her cheeks were painfully red and she was tugging her shirt back on, the forty something man had taken her forcefully back to his room. He had raised his weapon, quickly calculated his shot, and then froze. She was staring at him with an unusual look in her shockingly green eyes, curly red hair falling over the bruised side of her face. She was packing major heat, but she made no move for her weapons. From what the young archer had learned of his target, she was the better assassin of the two, and probably the best in the world, even then. There wasn’t much on her, only that the agency she worked for was neither good to their victims or their employees, and that she had taken down a S.H.I.E.L.D agent a month back, not unusual for her hit list. It was time to put her away, and Barton had been their only option. So there he stood, his feet crunching glass, sleek pistol aimed straight between her large green eyes.  
A seemingly cold blooded killer, emotionless in her tasks, stared straight into the barrel of his gun, unafraid. Slowly her eyes moved upward to meet his, her face expressionless. There was something pained in those eyes, tired beyond her years, but no fear.  
“Do it,” she whispered, her Russian accent apparent in her words. She raised her hands to shoulder height, squared her shoulders, unblinking.  
He was taken by surprise. She could have killed him, or at least incapacitated him long enough to escape, but instead she abandoned her weapons, abandoned her talents, and faced death straight on. This wasn’t someone who took pleasure in her work, or in returning to her agency after a successful mission. He had never seen someone so strong, and yet so broken.

In that moment, eighteen year old Clint Barton made a choice that he had never made before. He lowered his gun.  
“No,” he said, meeting her gaze with a determination he had never felt before.  
And in that instant, both of their lives changed forever.

                                                                 *****

  
Natasha left Barton in the plane, which was well hidden by Starks genius invisibility shielding. He had made no further protests to remaining behind, as long as she remained in contact.  
Black Widow slid through the doorway of the barn, allowing it to creak shut behind her. She first scanned for threats, but the bales of hay and dull pitchforks seemed innocent enough. She had already staked out exits in the split second it took for her eyes to adjust, and in an instant she was moving again.  
From memory, she knew that the entrance to the tunnel system was a trapdoor in the far right corner, so that’s where she headed. Sure enough, after heaving a pile of hay aside, a thick set metal door revealed itself. Natasha knelt in the dust, putting her face up close. The retinal scanner whirred to life, identified her, and the keypad clicked open for her passcode and clearance level. She tapped the codes in at lightning speed, and with a sliding of heavy bolts, the distinct ‘click’ of the lock could be heard.  
“Thank you, Miss Romanoff,” said a smug voice from behind her. Unfortunately for Loki, she had already heard the creak of the door when he entered, and in one swift movement, she yanked the trapdoor open and slammed it back shut, locking it again. The god bared his teeth in frustration, motioning to his guards to grab her. . Immediately she spun with one leg out, hitting one man in the ankles and toppling his balance, allowing her to spring up, grab his head, and slam it into the ground. The second man grabbed her around the waist from behind, holding her off the ground and wrapping his free hand around her neck.  
Natasha kicked him between the legs, diving out just in time not to be crushed as he fell, clutching his lower region with a groan. A fist flew at her, catching the side of her face. She grabbed the arm, twisted it so he yelped, and used it to swing herself off the ground. Her flying body caught him and quick as lightning she wrapped a leg around his neck, flipping him onto his back and jumping away to land on her feet. The second soldier had recovered himself enough to lunge at her, using his body mass to tackle her to the floor. Thrin slammed a fist into her face, letting his anger get the better of him as he pressed a knee into her throat, cutting off her air and making her splutter. He hit her a few times, shifting his weight a bit, and in doing so, unknowingly brought his own doom upon himself. For the second time in the past thirty seconds or so, she slammed her leg into his groin, harder this time, and rolled them over to release herself from the practically bawling Asgardian. It took another kick to the head to silence him, almost mercifully, at which point the spy spotted another figure lumbering towards her from the left. Without blinking she whipped out her gun and fired. Her aim was impeccable- right between the eyes- and he fell back, the life fading from his eyes. She didn’t pause to consider her kill, since that would be like stopping to wonder about tying shoelaces- something that comes naturally, without thought.  
She heard Barton before she saw him. It had only taken her a few seconds to realize that Clint not coming running at the sounds of fighting was a bad thing, so when she turned to see his electric blue gaze, Natasha wasn’t shocked. It was her fault for leaving him alone, susceptible to Loki’s schemes. She blamed herself, even though one of the first things she had been taught was, ‘guilt towards the enemy is handing them a sword with which to stab you.’  
This time he wasn’t blindly lashing out at her, his movements were those that he had developed over time from years and years of training. There wasn’t a way for her not to fight back- she could always beat him in a fight, but he had the advantage over her here. While she didn’t wish to hurt him, he had no such boundaries, and as he swung his fists at her face, she knew he wanted to hurt her. Black Widow ducked, dropping to the ground and sweeping her leg quickly around at his ankles, swiftly rolling before his kick could hit her, and leaping up behind him. Hawkeye was ready, turning and head-butting her in the face. She returned the action, harder-she had taught the move to him, after all- causing him to step backwards. He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down, but she flipped back into a standing position almost immediately and sprinted at him, ramming Hawkeye in the chest.  
Clint stumbled a few steps but regained his footing, throwing a punch at her, which she ducked easily.  
“Clint, fight it,” she hissed, sending a punch of her own. He caught her hand and twisted her wrist around, grabbing a handful of her hair in his other fist and yanking her head back. “Clint,” she pressed her free hand to his neck, cutting off his oxygen. “You’re stronger than this.” He was forced to release her and rip her hand off his neck, at which point she kicked his knee cap, jumped over his counter kick and ducked his flying fist, moving as gracefully as a dancer as she did. She ran up the wall and kicked off, flying at him and wrapping her legs around his neck, bringing him down to the ground in one practiced movement. The second he fell Hawkeye pushed himself back up, kicking her legs out from underneath her. She rose only to be slammed up against the wall, his face right in hers. “Barton,” she glared into those angry eyes, the wrong colour. “I know you’re in there.”  
In response he punched her in the face. She grabbed his arm and bit it, using the slight automatic recoil as her opportunity to slip down and out from under him, jumping on his back and wrapping her arms around his neck. Hawkeye grabbed onto her arms and flipped her over his head, but she landed on her feet and punched him in the face before he could even react.

It was hard to fight a person trying to do you damage when you didn’t want them hurt. Natasha had been in this situation several times before- always with Clint- and it didn’t get any easier. Still, she had always been better than her partner. Not to say he wasn’t good, because he was. Probably second best in the world, as assassins go. But her training hadn’t just been drilled and practiced into her head, it had been tortured into it. The psychological, emotional, and physical effects of so much pain were devastating, but her skills were better than anyone elses. Even so, Loki was too smart to bring only three guards. Twelve more entered to assist in her capture. Natasha managed to kill six of them and knock out two others, but the four remaining giants used their mere mass to hold her down while Barton hit her in the face, yanking her arms back and cinching strong cuffs so tightly that they cut her wrists.

He pulled her up roughly after securing her ankles, bringing her to stand in front of Loki. Natasha stood, seething, but her expression was unreadable. The god took her chin in his hand, tilting it up and forcing her to look up at him. As a response, she spat in his face. Barton immediately punched her in the face, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her head into the wall so hard it nearly knocked her unconscious. The spy slid to her knees, already getting back to her feet when his foot slammed down on the back of her head, pressing her cheek into the ground.  
“Don’t move,” he said coldly, and she knew his arrow was aimed at her heart. She did as he instructed, and after a minute, the four guards were ordered to take her back to their plane, so they grabbed her arms and led her forcefully from the room.

Once they were outside again she attacked. It was hard to fight in cuffs, her body was throbbing from the blows, but she still managed to wrap her chains around one guards neck and suffocate him, despite the other three pulling and punching at her. Finally he dropped to the ground, her on top, and they managed to yank her away. Zaneth felt his friend’s neck, then glared at the woman.  
“You killed him.” He rose to look down at her, anger in his eyes. “My friend.” Without warning his leg shot out and caught her in the ribs, an already weak bone snapping again. The other guards closed in.  
“The king said to take you to the plane...he didn’t say conscious.” Zaneth grinned wickedly, and rolled up her sleeves.

Natasha Romanoff had been tortured and beat many times before, and she knew the drill. She was on the ground, in chains, with three much larger guys standing too closely to supply room for movement. Black Widow could handle a beating. She carefully curled herself up tighter, to protect the vital things more. The guards took this as a sign of weakness, but she couldn’t be bothered to care what they thought. She had to stay with Clint, to protect him and help him, whether or not that meant being with Loki or being tortured, she didn’t care. She was not about to let her partner slip through her fingers again. She wouldn’t run, and she couldn’t fight, so she settled with the comforting thought that she would kill all of them later, and more importantly, Hawkeye wouldn’t be alone this time.

 

                                                              *****


	6. Chapter 6

“What to do with you…” Clint Barton was pacing back and forth before his partner, who was chained to a similar chair to the one she had been held in before. Again Natasha was looking beat, but not as badly as last time. Three of her ribs had been broken, her cheek was bruised, she had a deep cut in her head and her lip was bleeding, but it was nothing compared to the numerous guards she had taken out.

This time her cuffs were on long chains attached to the floor, and the chair she was sitting in was welded to the floor. He walked over and lifted her off the floor where his previous kicking had landed her, wrapping one hand around her neck and the other arm around her waist. It was a dangerous situation for her- fighting could mean further entangling herself in the chains, which were already tight enough to be cutting her. Barton threw her at the wall, which she hit, but before she could right herself he had picked her back up and pushed her back against the metal.  
“Clint,” she looked up at him, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Clint, fight him.” In response he threw the spy again, making her fly so far across the room that the chains yanked her back, twisting her limbs painfully. She leapt back to her feet immediately. “Clint, this isn’t you. I know you’re in there, I know you.” He grabbed the chains and pulled her to him, yanking her chin up.  
“You know me?” Hawkeye shook the woman. “You don’t know a thing about me, you don’t know who I am, what I can do to you,” he smiled malevolently.

“Barton, I’m your partner,” she rested her palms on his chest. “You’re my partner.” He threw her again. This time, he had the advantage. She only had a half a foot of chain between her ankles and wrists, and a few feet of space to move in that. He had the height and weight advantage over her as well, and the fact that she didn’t want to hurt him and he wanted to hurt her.

“You’re my partner?” He picked her back up again and pushed her into the chair, forcing Black Widow to sit and clamping the extra cuffs onto her arms and legs to hold her. “Really?” His hand came across her face, turning it away with the blow, and again. “All you do is lie, Romanov.” He hit her again and turned his back on her, pacing away. Her large green eyes watched him retreat.  
“Yes. I lie, but not to you,” she said quietly. “I never lie to you.” He turned to glare at her.  
“And I’m supposed to believe that. It’s just another lie.” She studied him.  
“This isn’t you talking, Clint. You don’t mean this. You don’t want to hurt me, either.  
“I don’t? How do you know? “ He smirked, an unusual expression on his face.  
“Because you’re my best friend,” Natasha said calmly. “You’re my only friend. I trust you.” He stared at her for a minute, then said harshly,  
“Liar.” And left the room.

                                                                   *****

Clint Barton returned carrying a chair in one hand and a red hot poker in the other. The door closed before she could take in anything in the hallway, and then it was just them again.  
“Remember these?” He set his chair in front of her and sat heavily, running a gloved finger over the handle.  
“Yes,” she said, inscrutable as always. He set the rod aside and pulled out a knife, cutting from the neckline of her catsuit all the way down the arms, not bothering to stop the knife from cutting into her skin as well. The material fell away so that her arms were exposed, giving him more to work with. “Barton, listen to me, you don’t have to-” she was cut off when he hit her across the face again.  
“I don’t want to hear your excuses yet,” he snarled, getting right up in her face. “Not until you’re begging for mercy.” Natasha slammed her head into his as hard as she could, hoping to jostle his brain as she had done last time. He countered by punching her in the face with a grimace.  
“I don’t beg.”  
“You will.”  
“Clint-,” she was again stopped mid-sentence, this time as her capturer lowered the burning metal to her skin.

Clint dragged the poker along the length of one arm, his gaze locking hers in a fierce battle. Almost lovingly he slid the poker along her collarbone- right over the scar already there from Loki- and down her other arm.  
“You’ve already got many burn scars,” his lips twitched upwards in enjoyment as he surveyed her face for signs of pain. There were none. “Oh, you’ve had nightmares about the KBG, they liked burning you, didn’t they?” He changed to make long slashes along her arms, leaving already cauterized cuts in his wake.  
“Barton, listen to me,” she was ignoring everything he said, staring into his face. “It’s me, you don’t want to do this.” Angrily he slashed the iron across her face, leaving a thick red line from her ear to her chin.  
“Don’t I though,” he said, smiling as he regained control of his temper.  
“No,” she said stubbornly, setting aside the pain for another time and focusing her attention on him. Clint’s eyes were electric blue, glazed over. Though he smiled as he moved the metal, those soul searching green eyes of hers found something else hidden in his- fear, anger, and shock. It only helped to confirm in her mind that he was still in there. After all, Loki wanted to hurt her partner as much as her, and forcing him to torture her could destroy Barton.

“Clint, it’s okay,” Natasha said, talking directly to the real him. “It’s okay, it’s not you, just keep fighting him, okay?” The fist hit her across the face again, making her nose bleed, but she ignored it. “We’ll get you back, hang in there.” The monster possessing her best and only friend- she refused to think of it as Hawkeye- snarled angrily and punched her in the face again.  
“Stop it,” he growled darkly, moving his poker to burn a bullet sized hole in her abdomen. “There’s no point, there is no ‘other me’.” She raised a dark red eyebrow.  
“Then why is it upsetting you so much?” Her chest rose and fell too steadily, practiced, the only sign that she was in pain. No one else would have noticed, but he did, and it made him smile. The poker was pushed between her two ribs, one of which was broken. It was right above her liver so as to avoid internal bleeding, and stave off death, but right into her muscle so as to cause as much pain as possible. Hawkeye was nothing if not creative. The heat caused the wound to cauterize, which made bleeding minimal, which in turn made it easier to stay conscious.

Only when she felt-in excruciating detail- the tip of the poker pierce through the skin of her back, did he finally withdraw it. Natasha allowed herself a moment of silence, to fully enjoy not having a red hot poker shoved through her- before locking gazes with him once more.  
“Barton,” she said calmly. “You keep fighting him, I’ll-” she was cut off when he hit her across the face again. “You keep fighting him, I’ll find a way to help you.” She knew that behind the mask of her captor, her partner was being held, just as much a victim as she was. It was one of Barton’s worst fears, not being able to control himself. Coupled with hurting her, he would finally have a nightmare to top all other nightmares for years to come.

She understood this about him, and looked him in the eye.  
“It’s not you.” She barely felt the knuckles make contact with her face, recovering quickly. “You are not this monster.”

                                                                  *****

  
There was only one name for him. Shadow. The looming figure of Clint Barton was always to be found lurking in the shadows. When he emerged it was always with a new torture device, whether it be words or knifes. She could deal with the weapons, though they were purposefully the same as those in her memories. But Loki was cruel, and he used Barton’s mind against her. The spies had inventive imaginations, brought on by too much pain and suffering. The people Clint hated the most, like Loki, he had thought up worlds of torture for. The god of mischief forced him to use them on her.

It had been four days and Natasha hadn’t slept. Shadow didn’t need to sleep, and so there was no opportunity for her to do so. The only good thing about it was that she could keep an eye on Barton. He never left, never ate, never drank. It was worrying her. If both of them were running off of fumes when they broke free, how was she supposed to escape? She was badly injured, and the last time Clint had broken free of his mental captor, he had been overcome with both emotional and physical pain.

Black Widow looked up as Shadow emerged, once again, from the shadows. He was holding a knife, which, considering his previous methods, was unimpressive. He pulled his chair over to sit in front of her, playing with the knife and examining his captive. Her face was bruised and sliced open again, and so were her arms, neck, and shoulders. Her abdomen was covered in burns and knife wounds, and her whole torso was bruised. Several ribs were broken. The worst of her injuries, though, were the arrows. Hawkeye’s finest. One was shot through each of her shoulders, so that whenever she moved one of her arms, red hot pain shot through her entire side. These particular arrows had shafts covered in spikes of all different shapes and sizes, spikes she had helped design herself. Pulling them out was going to hurt like a bitch, and they had already caused her a great deal of blood loss.

Today he made the same offer as every day. He looked her in the eye, holding up the knife so the light glinted off the blade.  
“This could all stop if you just asked. I would end it quickly for you.” Like every day, she narrowed her eyes and set her jaw, shooting daggers at him with her glare. He sighed, disappointed. “I guess I’ll just have to keep carving then.” But this time when he drew blood, it wasn’t hers. It was strange, seeing a man carve into his own shoulder. But this wasn’t really Clint, this wasn’t really her partner. It was, however, hurting him.  
“Stop,” she hissed. He looked down at her with a fake look of surprise.  
“Stop what?” The knife traced a line of red down his arm, magenta blood trickling down his muscles. Natasha took a breath, trying not to let it get to her. Clint wasn’t even able to put up a fighting chance. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing how many of Loki’s men she had killed, and how many were yet to come. Barton was forced to work for the villain.

Shadow grinned and ran the red stained blade across her cheek, lightly, as if caressing it, barely drawing blood. Then he returned the knife to his own arm, dug it into his own flesh. Natasha was furious, but like all of her emotions, it didn’t show. Instead of screaming or threatening, she leaned forwards, her face close to his, her green eyes boring holes in his.  
“Fight the bastard, Clint. The sick, sick bastard. You are strong.”

                                                                 *****

  
Tony, Steve, and Samuel were all staring at the barn where four days previously, their friends had lost contact. Sam was holding up a screen, where the anxious faces of Pepper and Banner could be seen. Bruce was typing away, trying to find a way to track Loki or one of the spies, and Pepper was trying to get ahold of Director Fury. Falcon showed them the room while the other two examined the floor and walls for any clues.  
“Blood here..” Steve knelt on the floor. “But who does it belong to?” Stark rolled his eyes, pointing to the wall right beside the blood stain.  
“I’m guessing Miss Romanoff, she’s the only one small enough to make this dent.”  
“You think they got the jump on her?” Steve looked up.  
“Judging by the eight or so bodies out back, I’d say they tried and failed to do so,” Thor stood in the doorway, his massive arms crossed.  
“Or so?” Falcon questioned, almost not wanting to know the answer.  
“Some of them were...in pieces,” the god replied uncomfortably. “Though possibly from decay.”  
“Were they all her kills?” Tony questioned. Over the years they had known the spies, the rest of the crew had learned to tell the difference between their kills. Bartons were usually quick arrows to the head or heart, while she had much more variety. There were snapped necks, bashed in skulls, poisonings, suffocation, blood loss, you name it. She was much more brutal.  
“Hers. Which makes me think Loki had control of Hawkeye.”  
“Great. So he’s got the two of them in some room somewhere, and we don’t know where. This is fantastic,” Steve muttered bitterly, rising to his feet. “He’s probably torturing them. Again.”  
“Actually, he’s most likely having Barton torture her,” Bruce put in helpfully. “The best way to get to her is with him, and vice versa. Physical and mental torture is my guess,” he said thoughtfully. Everyone stared at him, or rather, they stared at the screen. He shrugged. “What?  
“Thanks for the optimism, doctor,” Sam said sarcastically, rubbing his tired eyes. None of them had slept much since two of their group had vanished.  
“I’m just telling the truth,” he grumbled, returning to his work.

 

                                                              *****

The thin transparent phone, displaying a number and a picture of Black Widow, rang only twice before Tony picked up.  
“Where the hell are you?” There was no greeting after a week of absence. The rest of the group crowded around, hoping for an image of her to appear, but it didn’t. That wasn’t a good sign- they usually tried to do video calls unless they couldn’t.  
“Shh, keep your voice down, Stark. I can’t control the volume on this thing.” Bruce was trying to track her, but the call was untraceable.  
“How did you get out?” Sam questioned.  
“I didn’t, I just got my phone.”  
“You’ve been gone for seven days and you just NOW decided to call us?” Tony hissed, obeying her request for whispers.  
“I have about five major concussions, it slipped my mind,” she said.  
“How do you have FIVE?” Tony questioned. There was a moment of silence.  
“For a genius, you’re an idiot, Stark.”  
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Still, you can function with any injury, so why didn’t you call us?”  
“I’m a little tied up.”  
“I understand you’re busy, but seven days!” Pepper elbowed Tony aside to speak, her voice concerned.  
“I don’t mean ‘tied up,’ I mean actually tied up. Chained up.”  
“Oh. Can you tell us anything about where you are?” Pepper spoke softly. “Anything you can tell us about where they might be keeping you?”  
“Sorry, it’s been kind of a rough time here, I haven’t had a whole lot of time to think just yet,” Natasha’s voice was dripping with venom, and Pepper flinched away. There was a moment of silence again, and her voice came back through, scratchy. “Sorry. Look, Loki’s got Barton. I can’t leave until I fix him.”  
“Natasha, you need to leave! We’ll get him later, we need to take care of you first,” Steve cut in.  
“Firstly, Rogers,” she emphasized his last name. “You don’t give me orders, you don’t control me. I’m a big girl and I can tell myself what to do. Secondly,” they could practically feel her rolling her eyes. “I can’t get out without Barton. I’m not sure how to work his arrows.” Tony frowned.  
“Why do you need to work his arrows?”  
“They’re stuck in my shoulders.” Pepper made a face of disgust.  
“Can’t you just pull them out?” Banner piped up hopefully.  
“You don’t think I would have just SAID that?” Her irritated voice whispered. “No, they’ve got barbed wires on the shafts. I could pull them out even like that, but the tips are magnetic and stuck to the chair.”  
“So you need him to fix it so the wires sink into the shaft?” Pepper said hopefully.  
“No, I need him to pull them out. Look, this isn’t important,” she diverted the attention from her injuries, not wanting them to ask about others. “What is, is that Loki has his scepter, and he’s going to bring the Asgardians down on us. You need to stop him.”  
“You make it sound so easy,” Banner muttered, typing away as always. “I’m trying to figure out Loki’s first target, but I can’t break through this firewall….” This led to a short and complicated conversation between Natasha and Bruce, at the end of which she had gotten him through the firewall. “I didn’t know you could hack,” the doctor said, sounding impressed. Natasha has a short coughing fit, in which she spit out blood, but recovered.  
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, doctor,” she whispered, her voice cracking from lack of water. It was apparent that every breath she took was painful. “He’s coming.” There was a scraping of metal and the line went blank. Tony ended the call and looked at the others.

“We aren’t really going to leave her in there to be tortured, are we? She’s our own,” Pepper said, looking at them with wide eyes.  
“What are we supposed to do? Search the entire planet?” Banner said helplessly.  
“If that’s what we have to,” Rogers nodded determinedly.  
“We won’t find her,” Tony muttered, rubbing his eyes. “We could search for months and we wouldn’t find her, but we don’t have months.” He started pacing across the living room. “She’s strong.” He added, as if it was going to make any of them feel better.  
“Yeah, so am I, but that doesn’t mean either of us will last forever, Stark,” Rogers put his hands on his hips.  
“There’s nothing I can do, Steve!” The genius cried frustratedly, slamming a palm against the table.  
“Romanov is strong,” Thor was loud and confident, drowning out Captain America’s response. “If anyone can bring him back and get them both out of there alive, it is her.”

Slowly they sat around the table, looking tired and dejected.  
“Do you think she would really tell us if she was really in trouble?” Sam questioned, resting his chin on his hand. “I mean, from what I know, she’s not good at asking for help.”  
“She said she didn’t need our help. You think she was lying?” Steve’s brow furrowed.  
“It’s not like she’s a spy that lies all the time or anything,” Tony said sarcastically, earning a jab to the ribs from Pepper.  
“Tony, don’t talk like that. She’s our friend.”  
“That’s right,” he glanced sideways at his girlfriend with an eyebrow raised. “She’s our friend, but are we hers?” Pepper opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, so she closed it, looking at her hands. Tony glanced around the table, wondering if anyone would deny that Romanoff didn’t trust them. No one did.  
“I’m a little worried that if we showed up there to rescue her, she’d blow out brains out,” he muttered. It was a valid concern. She felt strongly enough about her partner that she wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in her way.

 

                                                                    *****


	7. Chapter 7

***Barton***

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak. It was like drowning in chains, thrashing about to no avail. Every muscle and every fiber of my body seared red hot as I pushed and pushed against the thing that held me, that bound me in my bones. I could think but I wasn’t in control of my body, I could see but I couldn’t control the things I was doing. I-he- looked down at Tasha. She was still locked in this hellhole of a room, chained to the chair I had chained her to, bleeding from the wounds I had inflicted. I, he, what was the difference? The crushing pressure on my brain made me wish for the end, to get away from the feeling that my skull was about to explode.But I couldn’t sucumb to the darkness threatening my mind, I had to save Tasha.

She was looking bad, worse than the last time she had come stumbling back from Loki’s grasp. Her skin was pale, bruised in most places and cut in the rest. My hands had hit her, had cut her, had shot her through with razorwire arrows. My hands. Her flame red hair was still damp from waterboarding, and her green eyes were small slits of bare consciousness. Blood. The blood covering the tray of weapons I had used on her, her clothes soaked in it, the water she had been drowned in stained red. Her blood was everywhere but where it should be, inside her. She couldn’t last much longer, even though he was being smart, dragging out her life to fit in as much pain as possible. This is what Loki does, I thought. He loves this, he loves the ‘high’ power over our lives gives him. He’s an addict, he’s addicted to other people’s pain. Just another junkie.

Unwillingly I picked up another knife, pressed it to the already scarred and cut skin on her neck. My fingers traced a small line of red across her skin, despite how hard I tried not to. Even to have the blade on me would be a relief. If I could swap our places, I would do it in an instant. But I couldn’t, because Loki controlled my body like a puppet. My mind had been crammed into a cage at the back of my mind and was being forced to watch the play. She opened her eyes and stared at me with that fearless gaze I had tried to copy from her.  
“Barton,” she said quietly, stirring something deep in my mind. She said my name not in anger, not with fear, but with caring. Natasha Romanoff saved that voice for me and even after all this, after all he’d made me do to her, it was still there. “I know you’re in there,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, seeing as the only water she’d drank was during her times waterboarding.Tasha! I screamed in my brain, returning to my thrashing and kicking, determined to be set free, to get her out. “Kick him in the ass, will you?” My hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, delivering a hard punch to her face that made several of the stitch-worthy cuts on her cheek open back up. When she opened her mouth to speak again, it was bloody, too much to just be coming from her mouth. She had bad internal bleeding,and needed to be taken to a hospital. All me.

“I trust you, Clint,” she narrowed her eyes as she looked at mine. On the outside I moved closer, face to face, to leer at her. On the inside I was pummeling against the walls that held me captive, kicking to get free.

Getting close to Natasha Romanoff’s face was his worst mistake.

                                                                  *****  
It took Tony Stark just over twenty-four hours to discover Loki’s scheme. When he did, everyone heard the loud metallic clanging noises from his office, suspected the worst, and came at a run. When they had all arrived, they found the genius once again seated in front of a large clear surface covered in writing and photographs. A few metal trays lay crumpled next to the clear glass wall.  
“Tony?” Pepper was the first to speak, resting a hand gently on his shoulder.  
“Son of a bitch,” Tony rubbed his temples. “Remember in the news, a few months back, that one of the small uninhabited islands off the coast of Somalia was under construction?”  
“Yeah…” Pepper said cautiously. Tony flicked the screen and it appeared all around them in the air, projected. Iron Man stood up and walked over to a picture of a large domed building, made of metal with large glass windows. He tapped the image and it became a 3-D object, complete with a beautiful rock garden and sandy beaches.

“This is a peace site, belonging to no country. And tomorrow,” he said, making the building bigger. “Leaders from countries all over the world are gathering here to discuss a truce.” There was silence for a minute.  
“Can you show us the building schematic?” Steve questioned.Tony shook his head.  
“It isn’t anywhere, at least not anywhere hackable. That’s the other bad news. He didn’t just take Barton and Natasha to play with them, though that was part of it. That S.H.I.E.L.D tunnel system didn’t just lead to Loki’s scepter.” Samuel groaned and rubbed his tired eyes, as if maybe all of this was just a bad dream. “Loki is going to make a play for total world domination, and we were so distracted over Barton and Romanoff that we let him get ahead of us.”  
“What, so they’re not important?” Steve hissed, obviously peeved at the blame in Stark’s voice.  
“He didn’t say that,” Pepper cut in before her boyfriend could reply. “He just said that Loki distracted us.” The two men rolled their eyes at each other and got back on track.  
“So what’s our play?”  
“I’d say,” Banner said quietly. “It’s time we have a chat with our good President.”

                                                                   *****

It was easier said than done. After all, the president of the United States wasn’t an easy man to get a hold of. Not to mention the general public wasn’t sure if they were heroes or villains, after the big show down with Loki. Still, Stark and Banner managed to get a call through to the man himself.  
“Hello,” Stark said. The residents of Stark Tower were gathered in the conference room, watching a large projection of Barack Obama’s face.  
“Mr. Stark,” he replied curtly. “I don’t really have time for this at the moment.”  
“Make time,” Tony replied cooly. The rest of them sat there looking between the two. Stark was well practiced at playing in the big leagues, but this was the President. “Look, sir, we have reason to believe that your life is in danger.” The President’s eyebrow twitched upwards.  
“Is that a threat?”  
“No, sir,” Iron Man had to refrain from rolling his eyes, and chose to pace back and forth instead. “Loki is back on Earth, sir.” There was a long silence in which the two men stared at each other.  
“Back. Loki. What even are you talking about? The war criminal was taken back to Asgard,” he pronounced it wrong and all of them flinched. The world still wasn’t used to the fact that a semi-god had come to Earth, tried to take over, and leveled an entire city in the process. Still, they thought the President would be more on top of his game.  
“Yes,” Steve said quietly, his elbows resting on the table. Obama pinched the bridge of his nose, and told them to wait. His audio went silent but they could still see the screen as he stood and walked out of sight.

The odd little group waited impatiently for five minutes until the President sat back down in his chair.  
“How exactly am I in danger, and why?” There was a man standing behind him now, but they couldn’t see his face.  
“Loki aims to attack the world peace meeting tomorrow, and obviously for world domination. We’re not sure if he has the goal of killing, threatening, or holding the leaders hostage, but he’s bad news, Mr. President,” Tony was having a hard time sitting still, but eventually he fell back into his swivel chair.  
“I need to go to that meeting,” he said. “This is the most important meeting in my career, and it might be the future of this world.”  
“That’s really not wise, sir, your life is in danger.”  
“I heard you the first time, Stark, what would you have me do about it?” He said testily.  
“Miss the meeting, go to the bahamas, I don’t know,” he needed coffee. It was too early to be arguing on the phone with the president of his country.  
“Thank you for the tip,” he said curtly. “My men will be on the lookout.”  
“Mr. President sir, wait!” Steve cried, standing up and slapping the palms of his hands onto the table. “Please, let us help. We can run security,” the ‘cap’sicle offered. The rest of them gave him a, “What the hell?” He actively ignored them and looked back to Obama. “We just want to make sure you’re safe sir. And the other leaders, too, of course.”

Once again the President muted himself so they couldn’t hear. Just as Iron Man opened his mouth to address Captain America, the sound came back on.  
“We appreciate your offer but my men will handle this,” he said curtly. Before anyone had a chance to speak, the line went dead. Stark turned to face the table.  
“Who’s up for crashing an international peace meeting?”

 

                                                                   *****

Natasha headbutted Barton with all the strength she could muster, sending him stumbling back, clutching his head. The world nearly went black in her vision, but she fought tooth and nail to stay conscious, and she did. The man before her was blinking rapidly, but she could see the blue fire fading slowly.  
“Tasha?” He sounded confused.  
“It’s me, I’m here, Clint. Can you come over here?” He crawled over to the sound of her voice as she asked.  
“God, Tasha, my head,” he panted, closing his eyes and squeezing them tightly shut. He didn’t seem to know where he was, what was happening, and he couldn’t see. Every time he opened his eyes, all he saw was blue. Just like before he was in pain, but soon it subsided and he opened his eyes.  
“Clint?”  
“Oh god Nat,” he turned to her, finally realizing where they were, that she was still tied up. “God, god,” he yelled, his voice cracking as his eyes filled with tears.  
“Shhhh,” she said, her energy drained, barely floating above the abyss of unconsciousness that would mean death. “It’s ok, you’re ok, it’s going to be ok.” He was untying her as quickly as he could, the chains falling on the floor. When he finished Hawkeye knelt in front of her, tears pouring down his face. It was startling to see her partner cry like this, but she reached out, pain shooting from her shoulders and down her arms, and took his face in her hands, leaving streaks of blood on his cheeks.  
“Tasha….I’m...I’m so so sorry,” he choked, unable to put into words how he felt. She caught his gaze and held it. Her face, other than being wrecked, showed emotion. That was something she reserved for him too, something she still had for him despite everything he had done to her. Her normally mysterious and clouded face was open, showing how tired she was, how much pain she was in, but that fiery passion and caring that fit her personality so well.  
“I. Forgive. You.” She said clearly. “I need YOU to forgive you, I need you to trust yourself.” He was swallowing hard, trying to calm down, hanging on her every word like a wide-eyed child.  
“I don’t..know if I can, Tasha,” he looked down at the floor but she tugged at his chin until he looked back up at her.  
“You have to.”  
“Why?”  
“Because we’re a team, Hawk,” she said quietly, her forest green eyes tired but determined. “We’re saving the world one bad guy at a time and we’re doing it together. It’s you and me against the world.” He nodded, his eyes losing some of that sorrow and fear. “And,” she added, her fingers sliding from his cheeks. “I’m about to black out,” she whispered, and a split second later she did just that.

                                                                         *****


	8. Chapter 8

The good thing was that Clint knew the building. The bad thing was...everything else. He had managed, with difficulty, to detach the arrows from her shoulders, and lower her gently to the floor. Her breathing was erratic and shallow, and occasionally stopped altogether. If he didn’t get her to a hospital soon, she was going to die. He checked the hallway, but no one was there and he heard nothing. He couldn’t carry Natasha and fight at the same time, so he was going to have to sneak past the numerous Asgardians in the building. Hawkeye scooped up his partner, who was worryingly lighter than before, and silently opened the door. The dash down the hallway was jarring. Every turn he expected to come face to face with one of the men or women he had been working with. He was trying to keep her level, so as not to jostle her broken body, but it was no easy task at a half run.

Suddenly Hawkeye heard footsteps ahead of him. His eyes locked on a door and without question, he opened it, rushed in, and closed it as quietly as possible. He turned the lock slowly, so as not to be heard. The room was dark, because none of the lights were on. Barton didn’t want to risk turning them on, so he stood in the darkness and waited. Soon the footsteps had disappeared down the hallway, and he switched on the lights. They were in a large room, with a few old wooden tables and shaded windows lining the opposite wall. Windows, he thought, setting Natasha down on a table and moving over to them. When he opened the blinds he saw the other wings of the building on either side, with grassy fields that led to freedom in front.

The building was more important, though. They were on the third floor, so he couldn’t jump. Knowing what he had to do, Clint picked Natasha back up and carried her to a corner of the room, laying her down carefully on the floor. Then he grabbed a table and turned it on it’s side, creating a nook in which his partner was hidden. No one went in the abandoned rooms, but if they happened to glance inside, no one would see her.

Clint needed his bow. More importantly, he needed his grappling hook arrows. They were back in the room he had just broken Natasha out of. Clint closed the blind he had opened, turned off the lights, spared one more glance at the table in the corner, and left the room. He retraced his steps, rounding corners silently and listening intently for footsteps. He heard none, and made it to the door without incident. When he got inside he ran straight to his bow. The room was exactly how he had left it, which let him know that so far, they didn’t know Loki’s spell had been broken. Hawkeye snatched up his bow, turned, and sprinted back out the door.

He nearly ran smack into a tall Asgardian by the name of Tholl. Before the man could have a chance to react, Clint grabbed his shoulders and threw him head-first into the wall. He crumpled, and for good measure, Hawkeye kicked him in the head before sprinting back down the hallway. Halfway there, he froze. He didn’t have his arrows with him-they were back in the armoury.  
“Shit,” he muttered, turning back around and running in the other direction. The armoury was on the other side of the building, and there were too many people to take out without his arrows. He was going to have to fake it. When he reached the unconscious body of Tholl, Barton dragged him into Nat’s previous prison cell and locked him in, pocketing the key before continuing towards his arrows.

The room was quiet. One of his previous co-workers was polishing a blade in a corner when he came in.  
“Barton,” he said with a nod. Clint nodded back and walked stiffly into the room, carrying himself as he had when he was possessed.  
“My arrows,” he said cooly.  
“Over there,” Jonash jerked his head toward the corner. With an imperceptible sigh of relief, he scooped up his quiver of arrows, checked to make sure the grappling ones were there, and slung it over his shoulders. He felt more comfortable with their weight at his back. After giving the Asgard soldier another curt nod, he stepped out into the control center. He was standing on a catwalk, overlooking a giant room full of computers and people, flashing lights everywhere. It reminded him of S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters before it had been destroyed.

He tried to act natural, walking along with authority, his back straight and his senses on high alert. Several tall men and women passed by, giving him the same nod the weaponry guard had given. He was their superior, or he was. Clint casually looked over the side of the catwalk. The guards might be stupid enough, but if he ran into Loki he was screwed.

He passed through the control center without trouble, but on his way back he ran into a group of three. He gave them the usual nod, but Marx grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against a wall.  
“I know what you are,” he hissed. Hawkeye wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, pulled him forwards, and flipped over his back, leaving him to crash head-first into the wall. The woman caught him in the side of the head and kicked his knee cap, making him fall to the floor. He grabbed her ankles and yanked them out from under her, then did the same to the other guard that was still standing. From there he leapt onto the woman’s back, grabbed her neck, and twisted as hard as he could. There was a snap, and he looked up just in time to see a boot flying at his face. It connected with his jaw, but he grabbed the foot, overbalancing the man and bringing him crashing to the floor again. Before Raut had a chance to rise to his feet, Hawkeye whipped a knife out of his boot and slit his throat, before turning and doing the same to the unconscious Marx. Without blinking an eye, he picked his bow back up and kept walking, leaving the bodies in his wake. When he reached the door to the cell, he heard Tholl pounding on it. He unlocked the door, pulled it open, and stabbed the man in the neck. He fell forward, a look of surprise still etched on his face. Emotionless, Hawkeye wiped the blade clean on his pants and slid it back into his boot.

When he reached the empty room he had left Natasha in, Hawkeye picked her back up and set her on the table again, before opening the blind. The window took some effort to open, because it was sealed shut from time, but finally it was opened wide enough for them to fit through. He pulled out an arrow, took aim, and shot. The hook secured itself to the rooftop on the far left building. From the open window they could swing down and hit the grass beyond the structure.

Clint wrapped the cord tightly around Natasha’s waist, around his own, then once around both of them. With one arm he grabbed his bow, and the other he wrapped around his partner, pulled her up onto the windowsill, and jumped. They soared through the air, secured together. They had done this together many times before, but never had she been unconscious. With a curse he tumbled on landing, skidding a few feet. Because the distance from the window to the roof was longer than the window to the ground, they reached ground before the other building. Hawkeye untangled the cord, retracted the hook, and slid the arrow back into his quiver. With his bow over his shoulder, he scooped his partner back off the ground, and took off running.

                                                                    *****

The sleek black jet touched down on the small landing pad in the middle of no-where. Almost as soon as it did, Tony Stark strolled out, followed by Bruce Banner and Thor. A few seconds later Steve and Sam emerged, and Pepper, who had flown, closed the plane back up. They had convinced her to fly to a nearby island and remain there, just so they would know she was save. The rest of them, decked out in star spangled suits and all, stared up at the international peace building.  
“Sound architecture,” Sam commented.  
“Nice windows,” added Steve.  
“Shitty protection,” finished Tony, rolling his eyes. The building wasn’t fortified, and it wasn’t locked down. It was assumed that there was a secure basement to escape to if need be, but Loki had the building schematics. There wasn’t anywhere safe on this island where Loki couldn’t find them. After almost an hour of pestering air control, they had finally been allowed in, despite the President’s refusal of their service. So you can imagine he was a bit surprised when the odd little group of men strolled through the extravagant front doors.  
“What the hell?” Someone muttered, while three men in black suits ran towards them.  
“Hey, we come in peace,” Tony said cheekily. Everyone else glared at him.  
“You...Tony Stark?” The guard’s face crumpled in confusion as he looked from face to face. “Doctor Bruce Banner...Steve Rogers...Thor..you’re the Avengers!”  
“Not very bright, this one,” Tony muttered out of the corner of his mouth. The man’s eyes fell on Samuel.  
“Who the hell are you?” He said gruffly.  
“This is Samuel,” Steve said. “Otherwise known as the Falcon. He’s with me.” The guy’s eyes showed recognition.  
“You’re that guy with wings.” He shook himself. “Why are you here? I don’t remember you being invited, Mr. Stark,” he addressed Tony.  
“I thought I’d crash the party,” Iron Man replied, strolling up the stairs and into the round spacious room. There was a very large round table in the center, with men and women seated around it, talking in different languages. After close inspection, he realized that each of them had earpieces, in which the other’s voices were being translated.  
“Excuse me,” he said, bringing silence upon them as all eyes turned to him. The suited security agents lining the walls watched him uneasily, some of them with hands on their guns. “Oh, um,” he looked around and walked over to a counter, on which several of the earpieces lay. He picked one up and put it on, tossing the others to each of his companions. Then he cleared his throat. “You’re all in danger.”

Everyone looked at each other, and the guard’s faces clouded.  
“What type of danger? Who are you?” A voice rang in all of their heads. The woman moving her lips wore a red dress marked with chinese characters.  
“I’m Tony Stark, you may know me as Iron Man,” he began, earning a few whispers. It was pretty obvious who he was, as he did have on his iron suit, but he clarified it anyway.  
“Are you making a threat?” One of the suited men inquired. Everyone in the room had the earpieces, it seemed.  
“No no no, we’re here to stop the threat,” Steve said, stepping forward.  
“You all remember Loki, right? The extraterrestrial war-lord that totalled New York?” There were murmurs throughout the room. “Well he’s back.”  
“And he’s got an entire army of Asgard soldiers at his back.” The President of the United States frowned.  
“We’ve already addressed this, Stark, and I assure you, our men can handle it.”  
“Really, because these guys-” he waved a hand at the guards, “they aren’t anything compared to Loki.” A critical looking man with gelled back hair wrinkled his nose.  
“We’ve nothing to be afraid of, so if you’d kindly leave, we’re trying to discuss world peace,” he said snidely.  
“You don’t seem to understand,” Banner crossed his arms and stepped forward. “Loki has obtained a schematic of this building. He knows every exit, every window, every passcode, and he will trap us like flies.”  
“And why should we believe a word you say?” Another world leader remarked. “After all, the world still isn’t sure you-” he was cut off when the island rumbled. The water in glasses shook, the floor quaked. Tony rolled his eyes.  
“Because that was Loki.”

 

                                                                 *****

It was nightfall and Clint still hadn’t reached a city. He had to hand it to Loki, the man had chosen a remote location. He was tired and sore, but Barton was ready to keep moving through the night. Then Natasha woke up.  
“Clint,” she said, her eyes opening a crack. The moon was up and shining brightly above them, illuminating her broken body.  
“Natasha,” he looked down at her, looking around desperately and moving towards where he knew the city to be.  
“Hawk, stop,” she whispered. “Stop moving.” He immediately sat down on the ground and lowered her down.  
“Hey, hey you’re okay,” he pulled her head into his lap and stroked a hand over her tangled curls. “You’re going to be okay.”

It had been a long time since he had seen his partner cry. She had cried in Budapest, while she was nursing him back to health and thought he was asleep. After the New York incident, she had admitted to nearly crying after Loki unleashed the Hulk and everything started going to hell. To be honest, he cried more than her, though neither of them did it often. But now she was, small sobs shaking her body, tears streaking her blood encrusted face. He pulled her up into a sitting position on his lap, her back resting against his left shoulder and his arms wrapped around her. He didn’t want to hurt her further, but he needed to comfort her.  
“I..” she choked, reaching a hand up to swipe away her tears. “I-I’m sorry,” she was having a hard time breathing through the pain.  
“Shhh, Nat you have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered into her ear. “It’s me, it’s all my fault,” he too felt a tear escape his eye. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he rocked her gently in his arms, crying silently now. “You don’t deserve this, you don’t, I’m sorry,” he kept stroking her hair. She turned her face to his and raised her hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears.  
“Hey, no, you promised me,” she rested her forehead against his for a second then looked into his eyes. “You don’t blame this on yourself.” Even though she was crying, Natasha was still trying to comfort him, as she always did. He nodded.  
“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had,” he smiled and did his best to stop crying.  
“You’re the only partner I’ve ever had,” she closed her eyes to stop the tears. “But I couldn’t have asked for better.”

Hawkeye looked back towards the city, his smile fading.  
“Tasha, you’re hurt bad,” he laced his fingers with hers, checking her pulse. “I need to get you to a hospital.” Her heart was beating faintly.  
“I hate hospitals,” she didn’t open her eyes, but tears continued to leak from under her eyelashes.  
“I know, but I can’t fix everything on my own. You’ve got internal bleeding,” he sighed. “We’re only a couple hours away from the nearest city.”  
“What about Banner?” She said hopefully.  
“I tried them, I tried all the numbers. Jarvis said they went to stop Loki, and there isn’t cell reception there. My cell died after that,” he said miserably.  
“Please don’t make me go to a hospital,” she muttered, turning back to rest her head against his shoulder. “I can’t stand them.”  
“I know, but you need surgery,” he persisted, putting his arm under her knees and standing back up. “I won’t let them hurt you, I’ll make them let me into the OR and I won’t leave you. Not for a second.” Natasha had spent too much of her life moving between the science labs and torture rooms to go to hospitals. Hawkeye had been forced to take her against her will several times before, but mostly S.H.I.E.L.D let him handle things.

Hawkeye started moving again, walking as fast as he could. Natasha had her face pressed against his chest but she had stopped crying.  
“Nat, talk to me,” he was trying to move smoothly so as not to hurt her.  
“What about?” She removed her face and looked up at him. She had one arm wrapped around his back to try and relieve some of her weight from his arms.  
“Nothing, I just need to make sure you stay conscious.” She nodded and pinched the bridge of her nose.  
“Do you think the others are alright?” She asked softly. Her voice showed that she actually cared. With anyone else she would have been emotionless, as always.  
“I don’t know,” he replied truthfully, also out of character. She nodded and looked at where he was walking towards, then back up at him.  
“Are you restless?” It was an odd question, so he frowned at her.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean with S.H.I.E.L.D,” she clarified. “Without missions, being holed up in that bloody tower all the time. Not doing anything,” she said bitterly.  
“Yeah,” he shifted to regain his grip on her. “I miss the field. I miss traveling with you, I even miss the hotel rooms,” he chuckled. “Long nights with crappy hotel coffee sitting at the tiny tables pouring over case files, making plans.” He smiled at the thought.  
“Chasing someone down, knowing all the bad they’ve done,” she chimed in. “Infiltrating enemy headquarters and taking out the guards, rescuing captives. I miss that,” she said wistfully.  
“We’ll do that again soon,” he said. “As soon as you’re healed up, when Loki’s taken out, S.H.I.E.L.D will be back up and running. We’ll be back on the hunt, saving lives, doing what we do best.” She nodded.  
“What about the Avengers? What’s your prediction?”  
“I think we’ll still live at the tower, in between cases. Steve and Sam will go off searching for the Winter Soldier. Stark will keep inventing, and Bruce will probably live in the tower full time but start doctoring in the city. Thor will go home.”  
“That’s pretty detailed,” she said, amused. “And what happens when the world’s in danger again?”  
“You know. They’ll call us all together to save the world, etcetera. One of the downsides of having ‘Avenger’ in your file.” She smiled and nodded.  
“Keep talking to me,” she said, her eyes drifting to the sky. And he did, keeping her awake the whole night long as they talked about anything and everything. Every minute drawing closer to the city, but nearing the cold clutches of death. Which would come first?

                                                                    *****


	9. Chapter 9

The ground shook again.

“Dammit all to hell,” said one security guard, grabbing another and running over to the large windows to look up into the sky. “What happened to air traffic control?” He pulled out a radio and started trying to make contact.

“It’s no use,” Steve said tiredly. “They’re probably already dead.” Tony walked over to the table and addressed the leaders.

“I assume there’s a secret bunker underground?” They looked hesitant to reveal anything to him so he slammed his hands down on the table. “We’re very likely the only chance you’ve got of getting out of here alive, so I suggest you don’t hold anything back.”

“Yes, there’s a bunker,” a woman piped up, looking scared. “The elevator leads to it.” Tony made a sweeping motion with his hands to tell them to get into the elevator, and there was a jostling as chairs were pushed out. He walked back over to the others. “Sam, you go with them to make sure they’re alright.” The man looked hesitant, but with a nod from the Cap, he started shepherding the leaders into the elevator.

“Loki’s not going to come in himself until he’s got the captives,” Said Stark, rubbing his chin with a metal suit clad arm. “You, Bruce and Thor hold down the fort,” he said, addressing Rogers.

“And what are you going to do?” He asked skeptically.

“I’m going to have a looksee at Loki’s transportation vehicle and see if I can find the man himself."

“You aren’t seriously going to try to take on Loki by yourself, are you?”

“Course not,” he said, putting on his earpiece and the face part of his suit. Immediately Jarvis’ voice rang in his head.

“Mr. Stark, you have 10 missed calls from Agent Barton,” he informed him.

“Shit,” he muttered, already dialing him back.

“What is it?” Bruce inquired.

“Hawkeye called me, left a message….shut up, let me listen.”

“Stark, where the hell are you guys? Look, I’ve got Natasha but I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere and she’s hurt, really hurt. Call me back, jackass.”

“He’s got Natasha,” he said, sighing as the archer’s phone went straight to voicemail. “Ten hours ago he said they’re in the middle of nowhere and she’s really hurt.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How bad did it sound?”

“He didn’t elaborate, but he sounded desperate, and he called me a jackass,” Tony replied grimly.

“Do you think she is going to make it?” Questioned Thor.

“She’s one tough son of a bitch,” he replied. “But I don’t know.”

“Look, we need to focus,” Bruce cut in. “We’ve got our own problems.” As if to prove his words, the ground shook again, worse this time. The leaders were going down in groups of ten with two body guards, but not all of them were through yet.

“Alright, alright,” Tony said, walking towards the exit. “Don’t die, okay?” With that, he left the building, leaving the three of them standing there looking small.

                                       *****

Death came first.

Natasha woke up screaming. Clint was there, grabbing her wrists to keep her from hurting herself.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he said soothingly. Slowly the terror faded from her eyes as she recognized him.

“Clint,” she said quietly, looking around. “You took me to a hospital,” she said dejectedly, tugging at the many tubes in her arm.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, swatting away her hand and doing it himself. “Look, the doctors did emergency surgery on you, but they didn’t fix anything else.” She frowned at him as the last of the needles left her arm.

“Why?”

“They were afraid you would arrest again. With the surgery and the trauma your body already went through, they were worried resetting bones or even just touching you to clean you up could send you over again.”

“Again?” She looked up at him and put a hand on his chest to stop his work.

“You stopped breathing,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “You were dead for three minutes.” She stared at him for a moment.

“Again?” This got him to crack a smile. It had happened before, and had scared the living daylights out of her partner. Her face grew serious once again. “You’re getting me out of here, right?” He nodded and pulled away the blankets. At some point she had been put in a hospital gown. It showed that every inch of her skin was bruised, cut, burned, stabbed, or any combination of the above. In her catsuit it hadn’t been as obvious, but like this he was almost too afraid to touch her. Barton shook himself, picked her up, and left the room. It was night and only a few nurses roamed the hallways. When one of them tried to stop him, recognition dawned on her face and the two passed by as she gaped.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking around at the empty streets.

“Cleveland,” he replied, glancing around before carrying her across the street and walking along the sidewalk.

“How are we getting home?” Her question was answered as she looked up to see Pepper running towards them, wearing a large black petticoat and casual business pants.

“Natasha! Clint!” She rushed over. “I’m so glad you’re alright...Oh god, you look horrible.” The spy gave her a tired nod as a familiar looking Stark-designed black jet landed in the street beside them. Barton carried her inside, closely followed by Pepper, and within moments they were taking off. The jet was being piloted by none other than Agent Maria Hill. She switched to autopilot and came back to where they were. Clint had set Black Widow down and held her head in his lap, lying across three seats.

“You should still be in the hospital,” Maria commented, sitting down next to Pepper across from the two.

“I hate hospitals,” she said at the same time as Hawkeye said,

“She hates hospitals.” The agent rolled her eyes and scanned Hawkeye for signs of injury.

“I wasn’t filled in,” she said. “But Agent Romanoff went to Hell and you rescued her, right?” Hawkeye looked down at his partner.

“Something like that,” she said evasively. Pepper cleared her throat.

“Natasha and Barton were taken hostage by Loki.” Maria’s eyes widened. She obviously hadn’t know that the warlord was back. “He took over Clint’s mind and made him torture her. They’ve been gone for over a week.”

“Way to overshare,” Natasha said coldly. Her partner procured a blanket from under the seat and wrapped it gently around her.

“We need to fix you up,” the pilot said, obviously still trying to digest the information she had been given.

“She needs rest first,” Clint cut in. “She underwent major surgery, she needs at least another twelve hours of sleep before trying to fix her up.” She was too tired to speak for herself, so she let him speak for her. Natasha curled slightly on her side and her partner slung an arm over her comfortingly.

“Sleep, Nat.” He whispered, giving her a smile that was reserved for her alone. She nodded and drifted off to the comfort of being safe-or as safe as she could be- again.

                                                 *****

The ground shook again. Whether or not it was from the fifty or so Asgard warriors entering the room, no one knew.

“Three to fifty,” The Cap said. “That’s not too bad.” The other two gave him ‘nice try’ looks and turned back to face the hoard. Thor started swinging his hammer, Captain America took a fighting stance...and Bruce just stood there, looking out of place.

“Banner, now might be a good time,” Steve said. Before the man could reply, the soldiers charged.

Thor’s hammer hit three of them at once, sending the men flying back and nearly knocking over their comrades. The Cap. was swinging his fists, kicking people, and hitting them on the head with his shield. Bruce backed into a corner away from it all, not wanting to go Hulk and kill everyone. The men and women were dropping like flies, but they picked themselves back up and went at it again, relentlessly. It was hard to kill someone when twenty other people were also trying to kill you, but the two Avengers were doing their best.

“Did we even lock the door?” Thor yelled, bashing a guy’s head in and letting him drop.

“No,” Steve replied, using the sharp edge of his shield to slit another’s throat. “But they would have just broken the windows,” he continued. A split second later he got punched so hard he fell backwards, and quickly the attackers took the opportunity to kick him and attempt to pin the man down. While on the floor, he realized hitting people in the ankles was a good way to topple them.

Soon after this realization, Steve was on his feet, kicking the heads of those that he had tripped. Thor had a pile of bodies around him, and Banner was in the corner with his hands over his ears, trying not to Hulk out. Against the odds, they  stood in a room covered in bodies, still standing. Both of them were bleeding and panting heavily, worn out. But they had won.

At least, that was until another army of Asgardians started marching through the door.

                                            

                                                         *****

Natasha woke up screaming. Her eyes opened and the first thing she saw was Clint’s face, which she proceeded to punch with as much force as she could muster. She thrashed until the blanket came off, at which point she was fully awake.

“Clint!” She fell off the bed to where he was. There was blood streaming from his nose.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding a hand up to his face.

“Nat!” He picked her up and laid her back on the med-lab bed. There was blood on his face and his nose was broken, but he wasn’t doing anything to stem the flow. Instead he cursed, lifting her shirt to reveal the fresh blood on her abdomen.

“You pulled your damn stitches,” he muttered, glancing over to the doorway. “Give me a second. Take this off,” He ran across the hallway and returned pushing a medical cart.

“I didn’t mean to punch you,” she threw her shirt into the trashcan.

“It’s nothing compared…” He closed his eyes and shook it off, opening a drawer of the cart.

“Stop,” Natasha sighed. She wasn’t looking any better, and she hadn’t yet been cleaned up. “Go to the sink and clean your face.” He hesitated and she gave him a look. “Do you want me to get up and do it for you, because I will.” He moved over and started splashing water on his face.

“How can I help?” She asked.

“You can help by putting pressure on your wound.” She gave him one of her glares.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she said sharply. “Clint, I trust you.”

“You can beat the shit out of me for two weeks, maybe that will make me feel better,” he turned to look at her, drying his face. He washed his hands and moved back over to the cart, taking out a sterile needle and thread. He also pulled out a few pills and watched her take them.

“I need you to trust you-” she was cut off when Clint said loudly,

“I need you to be okay!” He took a wet washcloth and cleaned away the blood before starting to stitch up the cut. Her medicine was just starting to take effect, but he couldn’t risk her losing more blood.

Barton’s stitches were small and neat, but most importantly they were fast. Soon he was tying the knot again, tossing the needle onto a tray. He could feel her eyes boring holes in him and he avoided eye contact. “Look, Nat,” he muttered, holding up his hands. “I feel...dirty.” His gaze rose to meet hers and suddenly there were tears on his cheeks, and he was unable to stem the flow. Still he tried to explain. “Every time I close my eyes I can see my hands doing those things to you, hitting you and cutting you and burning you and…” he tried to wipe his face on his sleeve. “And my hands are covered in blood and it’s yours, Nat, it’s your blood. How am I supposed to wash it away?” Suddenly her small hands were squeezing his. “How,” he could taste salt. “How do I erase this red from my ledger?”

She studied his face then took her hands from his to brush away the tears and cup his cheeks.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” the words rang in their ears, both from the present and that day so long ago, the day they’d met when he’d been sent to kill her. She fixed his gaze.

“Thank you,” he whispered. There was relief in his voice. He had needed to hear those words.

“Come here,” Natasha made room for him on the bed and he slipped onto the bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his chest. “Have you slept any at all?” He shook his head and she closed her eyes. “Sleep now.” He nodded tiredly and drifted off quickly. Her words had lifted some of the weight from his  chest, it was like he could finally breathe again. After listening to his heart for a few minutes, Natasha closed her eyes and she too drifted off.

**  
  
**

                                                      *****                              

Tony blasted off into the sky. There was a heli-carrier up there, similar to the ones S.H.I.E.L.D had been creating, with his help. It was smaller, though, and black. He flew around slowly, examining every inch of the work. It was good. I’m better, he thought smugly, his right arm opening to a number of extensions as he came around to a sealed doorway.

It took him a little over a minute for the door to pop open and for him to slide inside. Thankfully no one was waiting to kill him. He was standing in a bare looking hallway with several doors. He sighed.

“Jarvis, signs of life behind these doors?”

“None, sir.” Tony opened a door at random and walked inside. The room was empty, no furniture, nothing. It was lit dimly by overhead lights just as the hallway had been, and across from him was another door.

“Why do I feel like a lab rat running through a maze,” he sighed, pushing through the door to find another hallway.

And so it went, deeper and deeper into the ship. Empty rooms and the same dim LED lighting.

“I don’t think there’s anyone on this ship at all,” he said, the sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. The final door he slammed open led to the main control centre of the aircraft, but the computer screens were black, chairs empty.

“Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘divide and conquer,” Mr. Stark?” Loki’s dark drawl crackled over the speakers, so familiar.

“Ever heard of an egotistical psychopath?” He retorted, turning to open the door he had just come through. It was locked.

“Fitting, isn’t it, Stark,” Loki continued. “To go down in a ship you designed.” He could practically see the psychotic grin on the warlord’s face.     

“I was thinking a firing squad, actually,” he stepped back a few steps and flew feet first at the door. It didn’t move an inch. “Or a bomb, big and flashy,” he put his palm face out and his cutting laser beam flashed across the door, bounced off it, and nearly hit him as he ducked just in time.                                                                

“Just like you Stark,” Loki sneered. “A public figurehead...a genius, you Midgardians call it. Pathetic,” he spat. “But enough of this, it’s time to die.” Stark moved around to bang on the rest of the doors. “If it’s any consolation, I believe you’ll be seeing Agent Romanoff in your petty afterlife,” he continued. Tony’s stomach dropped.

“Liar,” he spat.

“If I know anything about the human body, it’s how pathetically fragile you are. I don’t have faith that anyone could recover from what I had Barton do to her,” he laughed. “Not that it matters, Captain Stark, you won’t live to find out.” Suddenly the floor jerked beneath his feet as the aircraft moved suddenly.

“Where are we going?” He moved over to the giant front windshield as the ship moved towards the building. “No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Loki chuckled darkly. “You’re going to crush your friends and bury your president alive.”         

“You’ve got people in there Loki, what about them?” He pounded on the glass with all he had, but not so much as a crack appeared.

“Expendable,” he said dismissively.

The ship came to hover above the building, perfectly sized so as not to be seen out of any windows. Loki had thought ahead. They wouldn’t even see it coming.

“Goodbye, Mr. Stark.”    

**  
******


	10. Chapter 10

Natasha woke up. Her head had fallen on his shoulder and there was a book in her lap. He was slowly flipping through the pages.

“I want to shower,” she pushed herself up to look at him. He set the book down.

“Okay.” She nodded and he picked her up gently, stood, and carried her over to the bathroom. Clint set her down on the toilet seat and started the water to let it heat up. She was wearing the hospital gown, but underneath she was still wearing her bra and panties. If there was something she would kill him for, it would be letting random strangers remove her underclothes while she was unconscious.

Agent Romanoff took off the gown and Barton stripped to his boxers before helping her into the shower. Once inside, they both sat down on the tile floor and let the warm spray flood over them. Ever since Clint nearly killed himself trying to shower after just being stitched up, they wouldn’t allow each other to shower alone while injured.

“Could you grab the-” she stopped, because her partner was already handing her the shampoo and conditioner. She rolled her eyes and massaged the shampoo into her scalp, sighing. The water in the drain was pink with blood. Hawkeye had his eyes closed, his head leaning against the wall, and his arms slung around his knees.

After a few minutes of sitting like that he leaned forwards, wetted a scrub brush and began gently washing the blood off her back. Every bruise, cut, and burn he found underneath sent a sharp pain shooting through his chest and he felt as if a hand was slowly squeezing the life out of him. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and kneaded the conditioner through her dark red locks.

“Are you okay?” She turned to rest her chin on her shoulder, looking back at him. He rubbed the brush in small circles over her back and shoulders.

“Honestly? I feel like I was hit by a train and run over by it,” she smiled slightly. “But we’ve left the train tracks behind.”  

“Why so cryptic?” He murmured, taking her right arm ever so gently and running the brush along it. There was a long stream of dried blood from both of her shoulders to the tips of her fingers, which he removed with a touch as gentle as a feather. The tendons and muscles in her shoulders were just starting to knit themselves back together after his arrows so carelessly tore them, and he didn’t want to do anything to slow the process further. She had superhuman healing abilities, which was the only reason she had survived. That didn’t mean she could survive anything.

As he started in on her left arm, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called. Sam edged his way into the room, throwing up a hand to cover his eyes the minute he saw that the shower curtain wasn’t closed.

“Whoa, sorry,” he spluttered.

“Sam it’s okay, neither of us are naked,” Hawkeye rolled his eyes and continued to wash the blood off. Falcon peeked through his fingers and slowly lowered his hand.

“What are you…” he trailed off, looking confused.

“Here’s a tip, don’t let someone who has just underwent major invasive surgery shower alone.”

“We learned that the hard way with this idiot,” she jerked her head at him and he mock pulled her hair.

“Oh-kay…” the man sat down on the toilet lid, still looking uncomfortable. “I just wanted to catch you two up.”

It took less than ten minutes to fill in the spies, during which time they managed to wash all the blood away and successfully condition Natasha’s hair.

“And they’re overdo for a call,” he concluded. The silence echoed for a minute before Clint rose to his feet and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and moved over to the sink.

“Here,” he opened the cabinet and threw a clean razor at his partner, pulling out another for himself.

“Do you think we should go find them?” Falcon watched him scrub his face with white cream and lean towards the mirror, starting to shave the scraggly beard that was growing. Natasha took the razor gratefully and did the same with her legs.

“I’m not leaving Nat,” he said with finality. “But you go after the ones you love.” He glanced up at the other man, who looked confused.

“What do you-”

“We’re spies, don’t flatter yourself. We’re trained to know everything about everyone. And you’re in love with Steve Rogers.”

“I’m not gay,” he muttered, the tips of his ears on fire. Natasha snorted, running a hand over her now smooth leg. “You’ve traveled all over the freaking world with him so he can find the old best friend that tried to kill all of us. That’s love.” Sam looked between them and ran a hand over his head.

“So you understand that I have to go find him, right?” Hawkeye nodded.

“We understand. But I’m staying with Natasha.”

                                                           *****                                                     

No matter how hard Black Widow pushed, Clint wouldn’t let her go back to her room. He said it was too far from the med lab, and if he needed to rush her there in an emergency, the elevator ride could be the difference between life and death. She said he was being an idiot, but didn’t push him further. Instead they settled to move her to the main area of Avengers Tower.

Hawkeye carried her out into the living room, dressed uncharacteristically in sweatpants and tee-shirt, and set her down carefully on the couch. Pepper had brought a pile of blankets and pillows up from her room. He set a pillow behind the small of her back and sat down next to her. After she was settled he wheeled the IV in and stuck it in her arm. One bag was just fluids, another blood, and the third was an intravenous feeding bag that was slowly giving her nutrients. He also placed electrodes connected to wires on her chest and hooked her up to a portable monitor so he could watch her vitals.

“Blanket?” She nodded and he grabbed her favourite blanket, a fuzzy dark red one, and pulled it over both of them as Pepper appeared.

“You still look terrible,” her heels clicked professionally as she crossed the floor behind them, threw her jacket onto the dining room table, and headed to the bar.

“Long day?” Natasha mused. Her reply was the clink of a wine glass as she filled it.

“You have no idea, the press is going nuts with all the planes flying in and out of the tower. They’re trying to watch our every move.”

“Trying?” Barton questioned.

“Javis is jamming their systems,” she replied, sipping her wine. “You two want something to drink?”

“We’ll have scotch,” Natasha said, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. Miss Potts appeared, handing Clint a glass of scotch and Natasha the bottle. The Russian nodded her thanks and they all took a drink at once.

“Any news?” Pepper asked, sitting down in the armchair across from them.

“Sam went chasing after Steve,” he said. The business woman took off her shoes, setting them aside, and started massaging the bridge of her foot with one hand.

“Couldn’t stand not knowing, right? If I was a superhero I would be right there with him.” She sighed and sipped her wine. “As much as I enjoy your company, I’m on Tokyo time and I need to go to sleep before I crash. Are you two going to be okay up here?” She glanced between them.

“We’re fine. Go get some rest,” Natasha said, giving her a small reassuring smile. Pepper shrugged, picked up her heels, and left. She turned to her partner. “What time is it anyway?” She asked. He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“Fifteen hundred hours. Are you tired?” She shook her head and rested her head back against the pillows.

“Would you get me some ice cream?”

“You can’t be eating solids for another few days Nat,” he said apologetically. “You need time to heal.” She frowned and reached up to squeeze the bag supplying her nutrition.

“This doesn’t count as food. I can feel my ribs, Clint” she pressed, widening her eyes. “A little ice cream won’t hurt me.”

“No,” he said stubbornly, finishing his glass of scotch. “I’ll make you some soup.” He lifted the blanket and stood up, rounding the couch to step up into the kitchen. A few feet away he faltered, raising a hand to his head.

“Clint?” Suddenly he had collapsed to his knees and then fell all the way down, his back arching as he screamed in agony. “Clint! God dammit!” She was on her feet, ripping the needles out of her arm and yanking off the electrodes. The slow steady alarm of the heartbeat flatlining sounded as she crawled towards her writhing partner. “Barton, can you hear me?” He was clawing at his head, blood streaming down his face as he yelled himself hoarse. His crystal blue eyes were open but unseeing, pupils fully dilated as Loki’s electric blue crackled around his corneas. “Dammit,” she muttered, sliding over to his head and grabbing his wrists gently but firmly, pulling them away from his head. He didn’t try to fight her or hurt her, just kept screaming as if every particle of his being was on fire. Loki was done with the spy, for now, and had moved on to torture the archer. “Shhhh,” she whispered, pinning his wrists to the floor so he couldn’t hurt himself. “It’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.”

It took over an hour before Loki relinquished his grasp on Hawkeye. Slowly the electric blue faded from his eyes and he went completely limp on the floor.

“Natasha?” His voice was scratchy and quiet from all the yelling. She released his wrists and tugged him up into a sitting position on the floor, facing her. “Did...did I hurt you, when I...?” She shook her head and cupped his bloody face in her hands.

“No. You didn’t fight me. I’m so sorry, Clint.” It was his turn to shake his head, rising shakily to his feet. “Lets get you back in bed.” He helped her up and lifted her off her feet, carrying her the few steps back to the couch. He put her IVs back in in silence, sticking the electrodes back on. The slow drone of the flatline vanished and was replaced with steady beats. She watched him move, noted that he was still shaking as he sat down next to her.

“You don’t deserve it,” she said quietly, prompting him to look up at her. “I know you think you do. For what you’ve done. But you have forgiveness. This isn’t about fair punishment, this is about Loki getting his revenge.” He looked down at his hands again but she continued. “I thought I deserved it too, back in the Red Room, I thought I deserved the torture because of what they made me do, who they made me kill. But they made me, and Loki made you.” She paused as he met her gaze, his eyes tired. “The worst enemy you’ll ever fight is yourself, Clint,” she took a long drink from her bottle and handed it to him.

“Thanks Tasha,” he said, tilting his head back and chugging the liquid. She rested her head in his lap as he stretched his legs on the coffee table.

“Blanket?” She threw a second blanket over him and pulled the red one up to her chin.

“Night Tasha,” he said tiredly, already closing his eyes.

“Night Hawk,” she murmured.

                                                        *****

“Shit!” Iron man slammed his fist down on the table, causing the computers to shake. “Jarvis, can you hack in to the main computer system?”

“It’s protected by several complex firewalls. It will take approximately twenty seven minutes, sir,” the cool British voice replied. Tony gritted his teeth.

“We don’t have that long!” And then there was a crash, and a hole appeared in the windshield just a few feet away from him. Accompanying the hole was Falcon, who landed next to him.

“Catch me up,” he said briskly.

“Loki has this ship set to crash into the building underneath us, crushing Steve Bruce and Thor and burying Earth’s leaders in their underground safety shelter.”

“And you aren’t in the navigation because…”

“Firewalls.”

“So who we really need is Natasha,” his wings folded in on his back and he turned to press random keys on a keyboard, trying to get something to come online.

“Loki said she’s dead.”

“She’s alive. She did die for a few minutes, but they restarted her heart,” he said dismissively, giving up on the tech. “If Loki rigged this thing to go down, do you think that means he stopped the engines?”

“Possibly. Why?”

“Didn’t you restart the engines on a helicarrier last year by pushing them yourself?”

“I did.” He was catching on. “Let’s go.” Suddenly he had blasted through the hole outside, closely followed by Falcon.

 

 

They soared up to look down on the carrier. Sure enough, all four rotating engines were dead stopped. They landed on the console panel and Iron Man pointed at the red lever, handing him an earpiece. He put it in.

“When I say go, you push that thing all the way down. We don’t have enough time to get all the engines online. We’re going to push the far back ones and that should propel the carrier far enough that it’ll crash into the ocean instead of the island.”

“Copy, just tell me when to go.” Iron Man flew up and dove between the massive rotors of the back right engine, cursing himself silently for doing this again. Last time he had nearly been caught between the spokes and crushed to death, thanks to the bad timing of Captain America. He could only hope the Captain’s prodigy was more punctual than he was. He pushed against the rotor, pleased when it slowly started to move in the right direction. The engines in his suit slowly increased to full power and soon he was spinning faster and faster. As soon as the carrier’s engine started to outdo his speed, he looked up.

“Now!” A slight shudder in the engine was just the gap he needed to get the hell out of there. Tony shot through like a flaming arrow, straight up into the air. Below him the engine was back online and working double time to propel the carrier forwards.

“Stark, if we don’t get that other engine online now...” The genius nodded even though his partner couldn’t see him, and sped over to the back left engine. If it didn’t go online soon, the other engine would overload. He took his position between the spokes and they repeated the process.

 

“Incoming!” Falcon yelled, soaring loops through the air to avoid the sprays of bullets. A tiny glider had dropped out of nowhere, firing on the Falcon as he waited beside a different lever.

“Just like last time!” Tony yelled, pushing his engines to full. “You get to that lever! Get there!” Sam just barely managed to slam the lever down before he was off, dodging more bullets. Again Stark shot through the spinning spokes.

“STARK!” He turned to see a glider shoot a volley of heat tracking missiles at his friend.

“I got you.” He took aim and the beam from his hand shot each of the missiles out of the air just before they could reach Sam. Then he turned on the glider itself, sending one of his mini rockets straight into its tiny engine. The thing exploded in a massive fireball, spiraling out of control and eventually crashing into the ocean. He caught up to Sam, who was panting and holding a stitch in his side. “I’m going to go push the helicarrier in the right direction,” Iron Man said. “You get in there and see in the computers are working. Call Natasha, maybe she can help.”

“No…service, out here,” he panted. “Pepper’s been trying to reach you for hours.”

“Great. Well, do what you can and then get down there and take out some Asgardians.” Falcon gave a mock salute and flew off to the main control room. Stark flew around to the back of the helicarrier, positioning himself at the middle. “Jarvis, put everything you’ve got into the thrusters.”

“I already have, sir,” was the cool reply. He rolled his eyes. Of course he had.

 

The monitors inside were still offline. Sam tried smashing them, rebooting, and yelling. Nothing worked.

“Stark, there’s still no control systems. You want me to come back and help or what?”

“No, go down to the building. I got this,” Tony replied. So he did. He dove through the air, wind tugging at his wings, and when he leveled out he flew straight through a window. He smashed through the glass, bowling two massive men over from behind as he did so.

“Hey guys, miss me?” He ducked just in time for Cap’s shield to whiz over his head and decapitate a soldier that had been approaching him.

“What’s the news?” He fell in beside Steve after handing him his shield, picking up an abandoned knife.

“Well, Loki’s got a helicarrier up there and he killed all the engines so it would crush you all to death,” he said, stabbing a man in the eye and kicking him backwards into his comrade. “Stark and I got two of the engines back online so it’ll be propelled forwards over the ocean before it crashes.” Steve slammed his shield into a woman’s head so hard she flew.

“What of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff?” Thor roared, sending four men flying with his hammer.

“Pepper picked them up at a hospital in Cleveland. Natasha was beat to hell and died for a few minutes before the doctors revived her, but she’s home now at least.”

“How’d they get out?”

“I didn’t ask. Figured,” he kicked someone towards Cap who swiftly knocked him down. “They wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

“Was Banner correct in thinking that Loki forced Agent Barton to torture Agent Romanoff?” Thor’s hammer boomeranged around the room, causing all three of his allies to duck. The Asgardians weren’t so lucky and many were knocked through the air.

“Yeah, that’s what Pepper said. He wasn’t really physically injured, but she was…” he shook his head. “I don’t know how she’s alive.” A punch to the face sent him flying, but the Cap took out his attacker and he stood back up.

“She going to make it?”

“Any other person I’d say no. But yeah,” he glanced at Banner. “Why isn’t Bruce fighting?”

“He doesn’t want to Hulk out. Something about the underground not being able to handle it.” Falcon gave his partner a bemused look. “He thinks because there’s a secret bunker underneath here that the ground isn’t stable enough to hold his weight. Considering we’re on an island and he’s the genius, I’m just going with it.”

“I’m gonna go do a fly around and see where all these guys keep coming from. See if I can’t stop the flow.” Steve clapped him on the back and a warmth spread through his arm that he couldn’t quite shake as he took off, soaring back through the broken window and into the sky.

 

The Falcon circled the building once, and in that time he learned two things. One the helicarrier was going to crash into the ocean instead of the island, but just barely. Two, the Asgardians were literally dropping out of the sky. He pressed a finger to his communication device.

“Stark?”

“What’s up?”

“Loki’s got a cloaked helicarrier somewhere up there. It can’t be too high, these people don’t have parachutes. Then again, they’re sorta gods…I don’t know. Something is up there.” He heard the billionaire swearing.

“Gotcha, I’ll check it out.”

“Don’t suppose you found any guns up there?” There was a pause.

“Yes, actually.” Falcon adjusted his trajectory to rise into the air and back through the hole he’d smashed.

“I’m in the control center, where?”

“Go through the door and take a left.” He followed the instructions and found himself in a narrow hallway. “Keep going until you reach a door on the left. Open it.” Again he did so.

“Guns,” he said appreciatively, grabbing a couple semi-automatics and slinging them over his shoulder. After pocketing a grenade and several rounds, he took off again.

 

He smashed back through the window, spraying bullets at the oncoming horde. The enemy fell like dominoes as he landed, wings folding in behind him. Soon the room was silent.

“You’re welcome.” He threw one of the guns to Steve and reloaded. “There’s a second helicarrier up there, must be where Loki is. They’re dropping out of it onto the beach. Stark is going to check it out.” Captain America nodded.

“Banner, see if you can get down there in the elevator and tell them what’s going on and to stay put. Sam, take position on the roof and cover us from the outside.” Wilson handed him another of the communication devices, then gave one to Thor. “Stark, this is Steve.”

“I hear you Cap.”

“Need any help up there?”

“Until I can find the damn thing there isn’t much you can do.” He paused. “Maybe try calling the Tower. I’m having no luck. I’m getting calls but I can’t actually answer or call out.”

“Long distance communication scrambling,” Banner stuck his own earpiece in. “Outgoing calls are being distorted, most likely by some technology inside the cloaked helicarrier.”

“Alright Stark, keep us informed.” He nodded to the Falcon, who took off again for the roof. Banner made his way across the sea of bodies to the elevator and began pressing buttons. From outside he could hear the progressively more common shots of Sam’s gun. “Anyone else hungry?” He cleaned a bit of blood off the edge of his shield. “Fighting really takes it outta you.” Thor glanced around.

“I would enjoy one of your Earth hamburgers at this time,” he agreed. Banner checked his watch.

“It’s almost dinnertime in New York.” He paused from where he was rewiring the control panel to open cabinets. “They’ve got to have food here somewhere.” He pulled out a bag of chocolate bars and threw one to each of the superheroes, devouring one himself.

“Wonder what they’re having back at the tower,” Steve said through a mouthful of chocolate, shield still raised. Thor ate his in practically one bite.

“Pepper is having the biggest ice cream sundae you’ve ever set eyes on,” Tony commented from somewhere up above them. “She always does when I’m away.”

“Hawkeye is eating whatever is in the fridge, because he won’t leave Natasha long enough to actually cook something,” Banner muttered, half eating half working. There were more gunshots from outside and all of them tensed.

“Natasha is still on a food bag and will be for a couple more days,” Wilson added. “Would you guys stop eating so loudly? You’re making me hungry.” There was another shot.

 

Banner finally managed to both hack into the elevator and finish two chocolate bars in the process. The doors slid open.

“I’m going in. If my connection cuts out don’t worry about me. I’ll be back.” He disappeared inside the machine and the doors closed behind him.

“Steve I need to go back up to the ship and get more ammo, can you hold the fort while I do?”

“Come get me and drop me on the roof on your way,” the soldier replied, slinging the gun over his shoulder and grasping the shield firmly. His partner swooped in, grabbed him and swooped out in an instant. After quickly depositing the captain on the roof. He gave Steve the last of his ammo and took off again towards the helicarrier. Steve knelt and took out two more Asgardians before they even hit the ground.

“Um, Steve?”

“What is it Tony?”

“I just got a message from Hawkeye.” He peered through the scope and shot another enemy out of the sky.

“And?”

“I’ll play it for you.” There was a pause, and then Clint’s voice rang through all of their ears.

“Stark. I’ve figured that Loki is jamming your outgoing calls, and I’m under the impression that you’re still receiving incoming ones. I am on my way. I repeat, I am coming in the jet. Natasha needs Banner and her face is all over the news because the police found some of the Asgard guys she killed. I can’t take her to a hospital and she’s in bad shape, some kind of infection or more internal bleeding or something. I’m bringing her with me, it’s the only way.” The message ended.

“I just sent Banner into the basement,” he said.

“Send someone after him,” Tony replied. He was still scanning the area for heat signatures. “I’m going to find the helicarrier and use the explosives in the other carrier to blow up the engines.”

“Won’t it just crash into the building?”

“Yeah. I’ll get the other carrier online and the engines working again. We’ll transfer all the leaders to it and get out of there.”

“How do you expect to get the carrier online?” He watched another Asgardian fall, fully aware that he was running out of ammo.

“I’m counting on Miss Romanoff for that part,” he admitted, meeting Falcon in midair and having a short conversation with him. He nodded and swooped down to deliver an armful of ammo.

“Barton said she’s in bad shape, what happens if she’s too out of it or unconscious to hack?” Falcon was once again waiting at the lever as Iron Man entered the third giant engine.

“Then we give her a shot of adrenaline,” Tony persisted, beginning his pushing.

“I think that’s just a movie thing, Stark,” Steve quipped.

“Look, if Romanoff can’t do it then we find a plan B. Until you’ve got a better idea, shut up,” he ground his teeth.

 

“Now!” Again the lever was pushed, and Cap watched a bright red object shoot into the air above the helicarrier. It moved away from him and disappeared. He watched Falcon soar around to the other side of the ship, which was dangerously close to the ocean. Captain America sighed and pressed the device again.

“Thor?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“Did you hear that?”

“I did.’

“Give Banner ten minutes. Hopefully he heard it too and he’ll come back up. If he doesn’t in that time, go get him.”

“I will.” Steve reloaded and hunkered down against the rooftop. At some point they were going to realize he was taking them out from the roof, and then he would have to retreat back inside. For the time being, he positioned his shield above him and continued on sniping. Thor was meticulously slitting the throats of the fallen. It hurt to turn against his own, but more than that he was entrusted with the care of Earth, and he was an Avenger. He only hoped not all would die before they saw the error of Loki’s ways.

 

                                                         *****

 

Hawkeye glanced back into the main body of the jet for the millionth time. She was strapped down to a hospital bed to keep the bumpy jet from knocking her off, an IV hanging beside her. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, and that was what scared him most. She had cuts everywhere that could be infected, burns that could be inflamed, broken ribs that could have punctured internal organs, knife wounds in her abdomen. He had stuck a damn poker through her, for god’s sake. Maybe she had heavy metal poisoning? He had first noticed when she started running a fever. He tried everything from antibiotics to dunking her in a bath of ice cubes. Next came the shivering. Despite being a whopping 103 degrees, goose bumps rose on her skin and her teeth chattered through blue lips. The final straw had been the seizure. And so he had hopped in the jet and aimed them towards her best hope—Bruce Banner. He had the massive medical kit with him and had stripped her down to sweatpants and a sports bra. He wanted Banner to be able to evaluate all her injuries.

“How you doing, Nat? Really.” He wanted to keep an eye on the sky in case there was a firefight in progress, but Jarvis was directing them.

“Everything hurts,” she admitted.

“What hurts most?” He left the pilot’s seat and went over stand by her side. He put a hand to her forehead, but she was still burning hot.

“My back. Feels like it’s on fire.” He nodded. There were lash marks on her back, but he wouldn’t have evaluated it to be the worst of her injuries. She reached out and he threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand comfortingly. Even her hands were bruised.

“We’re on our way, Banner will be here soon. He’ll fix you up,” he spoke with a confidence that he didn’t feel. She nodded and he brushed some of her hair out of her eyes.

 

“We are approaching the destination,” Jarvis interrupted them and Hawkeye left her side reluctantly. He fixed one of their short distance communication devices in his ear.

“Stark?”

“Barton!” It was good to hear the billionaire’s voice again. “How’s Natasha?” He glanced back at her.

“Not great.”

“Is she conscious?”

“Yes…” he said slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

“Great, I need her help.” Hawkeye’s eyebrows rose.

“You realize she’s gravely injured, right?” From behind him his partner rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have a ton of other options, Barton. Banner’s down in the basement with the leaders and he hasn’t come up. Until he does she’s got nothing else to do.” He gritted his teeth.

“What should I do?”

“Land on the black helicarrier. I’ll meet you there.” The archer rolled his eyes and sat back down, taking control of the plane and steering it towards the other airborne vessel.

“Stark needs you to hack into something,” he told her, touching down and wincing at the bouncing.

“Always…willing to hack,” she muttered.

The jet opened onto the flat surface of the helicarrier. Stark was waiting for them outside as Clint pushed the bed out onto the pavement.

“Whoa,” Tony caught sight of her and she rolled her eyes, unbuckling herself with shaking hands. She sat up and both men caught glimpse of her back. It was a cobweb of slashes only interrupted by bruising.

“Nat, stay in bed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my legs,” she muttered.

“There is however something wrong with your abdomen, broken ribs and a lot of concussions that say you should lie down.” She did as instructed.

“So you need me to hack something?” Tony tore his eyes away from the horror show of her body and nodded.

“This helicarrier.”

“Oh, that should be simple,” she snarled. Tony let it pass. She had to be in a lot of pain to let Hawkeye drag her halfway across the world. Together they wheeled her bed into the control room and Clint left her with Tony to step outside, pressing his ear piece.

“Rogers, do you read?”

“I hear you.”

“Where the hell is Banner?”

“I sent him down to inform the committee about our status. He said it was possible his device wouldn’t work down there.”

“BARTON GET IN HERE!” Tony yelled through the link, sending the archer running. He skidded into the control room to find Natasha seizing in her bed. He swore loudly.

“Hold her down!” He rolled her on her side and held her neck steady while Tony grabbed her wrists and pinned her firmly to the bed.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice sounded in their ears. Slowly her jerking body slowed and she slumped against the bed. Clint checked her pulse before pressing a finger to his ear.

“She was having a seizure. Look, I’ll go down there and get Banner, but I need someone with at least relative medical experience to be with her.” Tony glared at him.

“I will,” came the Falcon’s reply. He soared around the helicarrier and landed next to the jet, walking towards the control system. “I’ll drop you off down there and come back up to stay with her.”

It wasn’t Hawkeye’s first choice, but Steve trusted him and Natasha said he helped against the Winter Soldier. He met him halfway to the door and suddenly he was flying, Sam holding on to the thick straps of his sheath of arrows. He passed by Steve and was deposited unceremoniously through the broken window before the man swooped off again. Thor looked up from his position leaning against the table and eating chocolate.

“Banner?” The god nodded to the elevator and he slammed his fingers into the button repeatedly. Several of the wires in the control panel had been rerouted, undoubtedly by the doctor himself. The doors opened and he jumped inside, pressing the only button there was. About halfway down he realized that with a whole bunch of political leaders, there would undoubtedly be guards. Guards that were very on edge from the pending Asgard attack. He raised his hands above his head in a friendly ‘don’t shoot me’ manner and waited.

The doors opened in a spacious room with sturdy looking cement walls and bright overhead lights. His welcome committee consisted of ten bodyguards pointing guns at him.

“Whoa, I come in peace,” he stepped out into the room, silently counting heads. Banner poked his out from behind a guard.

“Guys, this is Hawkeye, he’s an Avenger.” Slowly, cautiously they lowered their guns and Bruce approached, the calm smile on his face just a little too big to be real. “What are you doing here?” He said quietly.

“I need your help. It’s Natasha.” He was watching the scared men and women carefully over the doctor’s shoulder. “She’s in rough shape. I couldn’t take her to a hospital, she’s all over the news for the murders of some Asgard guys.” He nodded and turned to the gathered crowd.

“Alright, I have to go help someone up on the surface. I’ll keep in touch, okay?” There were small nods around the room and they stepped into the elevator again. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure.” He pressed the button and they began to ascend.

“What’s her condition?”

“Five broken ribs two arrow wounds a fractured collarbone, two knife wounds in her abdomen and a poker wound between her ribs. She’s got cuts and burns and she’s bruised all over and there are lacerations on her back.” The elevator doors slid open and they stepped back into the room. “She’s got a fever that won’t come down and something’s wrong with her blood circulation. She’s been having seizures.” He pressed the device. “Falcon, I’ve got him. We need a ride.”

They stepped out through the broken window and seconds later they were being lifted into the air.

“You...two...are...heavy!” Sam panted, dropping them off on the helicarrier and landing a few feet away. Hawkeye retrieved the giant medical kit and lead them at a sprint back through the ship to the control room. Natasha was standing by an open control panel in the wall at about chest level. Stark was practically holding her up with an arm around her waist as she fumbled with the wires.

“Why’d you let her out of bed?” Clint hurried over and tried to gently take the wire cutters from her.

“I didn’t really have a choice!” He defended, scowling.

“Of course you did, you could have just picked her up. For god’s sake Tony, you don’t have to be strong to carry her and you’re wearing a goddamn metal suit.” She shot him an angry look as he did just that, picking her up and carrying her over to the bed.

“See, if anyone but you did that she would kill them,” Tony walked over to help Banner set the medical kit up on an empty table.

“She can’t kill anyone like this,” Hawkeye muttered, fixing her IV.

“Give me a gun and say that again,” she glared, but he merely rolled his eyes and took her temperature.

Banner came over, snapping his gloves on.

“You look horrible,” he commented, starting at her scalp and carefully examining her.

“I’m tired of people telling me that,” she muttered. “Aren’t you supposed to lie and say I look great?” He paused at a gash on her head and pulled her hair aside to look more closely.

“Fury warned us that you don’t like being lied to before he put us all in the tower together,” he said calmly, dabbing at the cut with antiseptic before moving his prodding down her face. “I can’t tell very well with you when something hurts, so tell me.” He paused, realizing that her skin was a mass of bruises cuts and burns, so every touch must hurt. “Hurts more than bruises.” He continued pressing down her face until she winced. “There?” He examined the wound. It was a long burn across one cheek. “And this was made by…”

“Hot poker,” Hawkeye determined.

“Well it looks a bit infected, but I assume you’re already on antibiotics?” She nodded and he smeared some burn cream on it to be safe. He got a similar reaction on her other cheekbone, which was swollen and bruised. He looked at his patient’s partner.

“Metal fist.”

“Tiny fracture, nothing to worry about,” he decided, moving on.

When Bruce got past her neck he helped her sit up and peeled away the square bandages on her shoulders to examine the arrow wounds. They were neatly stitched both back and front, with no signs of infection. He could see the darker bruising where her clavicle had been broken, but someone had obviously reset it already. He redressed and re bandaged the arrow wounds and circled around to her back. This was the source of the infection. Where her skin wasn’t ripped open by some sort of whip it was bright red. He could see that Clint had thought better then to stitch her wounds. It would only end up pulling the little good skin she had left and try to stretch it to cover more ground than it could. The doctor sighed and picked up towel, pouring some of the vodka Hawkeye had brought over it, raising an eyebrow at the archer. He shrugged.

“Okay Natasha, I’m going to have you lie on your stomach for me.” Tony and Falcon helped her flip onto her stomach. “Are there any lacerations underneath your bra?” She turned her head sideways to look at Clint, who nodded slowly.

“SBC or not?”

“Yeah,” the other men just watched them in utter confusion as he carefully unclipped the bra and slid it to both sides to bare her back and keep her modesty.

“What?” Hawkeye glanced up at Tony.

“It’s an abbreviated type of sports bra.” Even Banner had a blank look on his face. “You try working with a female partner and not learn about bras,” he muttered. He leaned down and Natasha whispered something in his ear that made him smile.

“Alright, this is going to sting,” Banner approached, holding his towel.

When he was finally finished, Banner held a dirt and blood stained rag in one hand and had Hawkeye pressing another into her back to stem the bleeding.

“How did you manage to get this much dirt in her wounds?” He tossed the towel aside.

“We had to jump out a window on a grappling hook line to escape, the landing was a little iffy.” The doctor was hanging another bag of fluids and nutrients.

“Alright Natasha, your back is so torn up that it makes sense to just bandage it as a whole instead of having a bunch of smaller bandages. I’m going to apply some ointment and then I’ll just use these gauze squares and tape to make a bandage that will cover your back. After that I want to take a look at your abdomen and ribs just in case. I think the infection caused the fever and the fever could have caused the seizures. That combined with obvious head trauma seems most plausible.” He was already putting the ointment on as he talked, while Falcon carefully taped the gauze pads together.

They made quick work of taping up her back, and soon it looked like she was wearing a white tank top from behind. Clint hooked her bra and wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her to flip over.

“How do your arms feel?” He was poking gently at the areas around the two stitched wounds in her abdomen. It was hard to tell if the bruising was external or indicated something more serious. Fortunately her stomach didn’t feel distended, so hopefully whatever internal bleeding she had in her abdomen had been fixed.

“Fine,” she muttered, her teeth chattering again. He sighed and looked at Hawkeye.

“Fair mobility seeing as the arrows hit muscles. I cleaned the wounds on her arms pretty well.” The doctor nodded and started cleaning and re bandaging the knife wounds.

“I need an MRI done, and a CAT scan. The ribs look relatively in order but I want to know where each of the breaks is and get a better look at that cheekbone fracture. I’m concerned there might also be a small skull fracture.” Clint threw up his hands.

“She’s pretty damn recognizable, Banner, what do you want me to do? Fury’s not answering, Maria is AWAL.” He sighed and cleaned his glasses, thinking. Natasha pressed her face into the blanket as a wave of pain rolled over her, causing her entire body to tremble.

“Alright. Call this number,” Banner was scribbling something down on a notecard. “Tell him you’re a friend of mine and you need his help. Head towards Australia.”

Natasha rolled as if to get out of bed but Falcon blocked her way.

“Move,” she hissed.

“No,” he gently pushed her back onto the mattress.

“I haven’t finished with the helicarrier yet,” she persisted, again trying to get up. This time she was forced back down by a spasm of pain that had her muscles twitching in protest. They all heard the popping of her back as it arched and she ground her teeth to keep from crying out. Hawkeye was at her side instantly, a soothing hand against her forehead. She slumped back onto the bed.

“Jarvis, with Agent Romanoff’s bypassing how long will it take to hack into the mainframe and get this ship online?”

“Six minutes twenty three seconds sir.”

“I think we got this from here,” he said, helping Banner to close up the kit. “As soon as we get out from whatever Loki is doing to jam the sensors we’ll call and head your way.”

Hawkeye nodded and they all accompanied him outside as he pushed Natasha’s bed back across the landing platform to the waiting jet.

“What’s going on up there?” Steve was still positioned on the roof, shooting Asgardians out of the sky.

“Barton is taking Romanoff to a doctor friend of Banners who has all the fancy machines.”

“Copy that. Does anyone else think it’s odd that it’s been forty five minutes and even though I’m shooting these guys out of the air they keep coming?” Iron Man peered over the side of the ship to see the Captain’s shield glinting in the weak sun. The bodies were piling up on the beach.

Clint’s jet took off with a roar and soon they were just a speck against the sky. Falcon, Banner and Stark were all left staring over the edge of the helicarrier. And then the doctor’s eyes widened.

“Oh no.”

“Why would Loki keep sending soldiers down when he knew it was suicide?”

“Because he’s sadistic?” Tony put in. Bruce slapped himself on the forehead.

“It’s a distraction!” He was mentally pummeling himself for not figuring it out sooner, but what with the peace committee and Natasha he hadn’t been given a moment to think.

“While we were distracted thinking we were taking out the enemy, Loki could have been creating a tunnel to get down into the bunker. We thought the whole point was to kill us, but if he takes over the world first he’ll have seven billion people hunting for us. There will be nowhere for us to hide. He doesn’t have to kill us once Earth follows him.”

“We have to get down into that bunker.” Bruce shook his head.

“Tony, we still need this ship. Hack into the systems and get it online, Thor and I will go down into the bunker.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asked.

“You give me a ride, and then you fly around up here until you crash into the cloaked helicarrier. We need that thing destroyed.” It was a measure of how serious the situation was that Tony didn’t complain about being given orders. Instead he charged back into the control center.

                                                      *****

Natasha dialed with shaking fingers as soon as they had a signal again. A male voice answered the phone, and she put him on speaker.

“Hello?”

“I’m a friend of Bruce Banner’s and he gave me th-this number to call for medical help,” she was shivering again. “He sa-said to fly to Australia but nothing more spe-specific.”

“Port of Musgrave off the West coast of Queensland and the Gulf of Carpentaria.” The line went dead.

“Got it.” Clint set the course into the computer and left the pilot’s seat, putting a hand to her forehead. “You’re still burning up.” She nodded tiredly and pushed gently into his touch, his warmth soothing her. “I’m going to give you a sedative. Even with Stark’s fancy engines this flight is going to take a while.” He rummaged in the med kit and pulled out a syringe, which he emptied into the lower IV port.

“Wake me....when we get there…” her words slurred slightly as her eyes fluttered closed. He remained at her side for several more minutes, determined she was unconscious, and carefully strapped her back down onto the gurney again. Jarvis predicted slight turbulence and he wanted her as safe as she was going to get. When he had finished, Hawkeye returned to the seat and watched the sea whiz by underneath them. In the back of the plane Natasha was shaking again.

                                                          *****

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I should have given you more action with the Avengers, but Natasha is my star and with her injured I didn't want to do too much. Not to mention there will be a sequel, and I've already started working on it. I'm thinking Chapter 12 might be the last chapter, or possibly 13 at the most. And yes, you will finally get a real Clintasha scene. I like to drag it out, sorry ;) The sequel will definitely have more! I'll probably post a link to it at the end of the fanfic. Please review!

CHAPTER 11:

The plane had barely touched down in remote port of Australia and he had pushed Natasha’s bed out onto the short grass before a figure appeared in Clint’s line of vision, moving steadily towards them. He raised his bow and nocked an arrow, but as the man’s face grew clearer the stranger raised his hands.

“I’m Doctor Sanders, you called me, remember? My name is Mike.” Hawkeye lowered the weapon. The other man had short black hair, brown eyes and was of an average build. He was dressed in dark blue hospital scrubs and a white lab coat, which rustled slightly in the light breeze. He came to stand beside Natasha’s bed, pulling out a stethoscope to listen to her heart.

“Well it’s beating,” he said unhelpfully, addressing Clint, seeing as his patient was unconscious. “My facility is this way.” He grabbed one side of the bed and Clint grabbed the other and the IV pole. “Can you give me an assessment of her injuries?”

“Five broken ribs two arrow wounds a fractured collarbone, two knife wounds in her abdomen and a penetrating rod wound between her ribs. Numerous burns and lacerations. She’s got a raging infection on her back, which has caused fever, shaking and seizures. Banner thinks it’s possible she has a skull fracture. He wants scans done.” They moved quickly across the plain. There were no buildings, just a rocky hill. As they drew nearer, he could see a door set into the mountainside.

Mike punched a code into the panel by the door and it swung open, large enough for the bed to fit through with room to spare

“We’ll take her up to get scans. The rundown is this--this is the main level, level 0. These rooms,” he nodded to the doors they passed as the two men wheeled the bed down the wide hall. “Are trauma rooms and operation rooms for emergent cases.” Clint raised an eyebrow at Natasha’s prone figure. “They’re equipped to deal with patients that are crashing, need immediate surgery and don’t have time for scans.” He nodded. It was simple enough. “Going up level 1 is the cafeteria, level 2 is general patient rooms, level 3 is where all the scanning, x-ray, etcetera machines are. Level 4 is the ICU, where patients that have just been in surgery and need to be isolated from common disease go. Going down, sublevel 1 is the operation room or OR level, sublevel 2 is the morgue. Got it?” They had reached another hallway that led solely to a gleaming row of large elevators.

“Yes.” The doors opened they pushed Natasha inside. Doctor Sanders pressed the number 3 button.

“Anything else I need to know?” He liked this guy. He was very down to the point, unlike many doctors who snuck around the edges and treaded on eggshells.

“I’m staying with her, put a lead apron and scrubs and a mask or whatever on me, but I won’t leave her side, I can’t. She is strong enough to kill you no matter how injured she is, so you may need my help if she goes psychotic, which sometimes happens around people in lab coats. Brings up loads of bad memories for her.” Mike raised an eyebrow. “And don’t freak out when you see her scans,” he added, as an afterthought.

The elevator doors slid open and they were in another hallway, wide like the previous and lined with doors. Each door had a label for some type of machine on it. Their guide opened one that read “X-Ray” and they wheeled her inside. It was a large metal machine he hadn’t seen before, with a small windowed room off to the side.

“Help me move her to this table.” They each grabbed the corners of the sheets. “Three, two, one.” It was easy enough to lift her and set her on the metal table in the center of the room. “This is a full body X-Ray. Like an MRI, but for bones. Here.” He handed Hawkeye a lead apron, which he put on before taking his position at the edge of the room. There, but not in the way. The doctor retreated to the observation room and his voice crackled over the intercom. “It will take 20 seconds. Starting now.” The machine whirred to life, bright overhead lights nearly blinding him. He hated it, all the clicks and the sound of metal sliding on metal. He wanted to reach out and grab her, but knew it would mess with the scans.

“Holy shit,” was his sign that the machine was done.

“I said don’t freak out.” The doctor poked his head around the door.

“Have you seen her bones?” He brandished the various scans, knowing full well he couldn’t see squat without a backlight. So he stuck the films on the wall and clicked the switch, lighting the partially see-through material from behind. Each scan was of a different section of her bones, which were riveted with the small telltale lines of previous breaks. “It looks like she’s literally crushed every bone in her body. And she can still fight? The battle of New York she was doing stuff healthy boned people couldn’t do in their dreams!”

“You know who we are?”

“You’re friends of Banner’s, she’s got red hair and you threatened me with a bow. I’m not a complete moron.” Clint peeled the apron off and crossed his arms, examining the scans closely.

“See, this I reset,” he pointed to the most prominent break in her clavicle. The doctor handed him a red marker and he circled the break. “It looks good.” He moved to the scan of her chest and examined her ribs. “Yeah, these,” he circled three breaks on her left side and two on her right. “Are all new.”

The doctor watched in morbid fascination as he carefully examined each of the scans.

“Banner was right.” He circled a hairline fracture on her skull, and another over her right cheekbone. “That should be it.”

“What about her hand, here?” He pointed at the scan of her right arm, where several thicker breaks marred her fingers.

“No, those aren’t new.”

“Okay…” wordlessly they lifted her back onto the bed and wheeled her back out into the hallway again.

“She’s got a bullet,” he said suddenly. “She’s got a bullet from a few years back. Doesn’t that affect the MRI?”

“Not ours, Mr. Barton,” he seemed almost smug. The doc lead them into another room, with a more familiar looking machine. Again they lifted her onto the tray and Clint put another apron on as she slid inside. This machine whirred more than it clicked. At least it was slightly less jarring than the loud incessant clicking of the X-Ray. Eventually the doctor reappeared, holding more scans.

“Well, she’s dehydrated, her stomach is shrunken, and she has more than one bullet in there--you do realize you’re supposed to take them out, don’t you?”

They moved her back to the bed.

“You said she had an infection?” Clint rolled her on her side and carefully peeled away the bandaging so Mike could see. The sharp intake of breath was never a good sign. “This is bad. We need to get her down to surgery right away.” The two men practically ran down the hallway with her gurney, Doctor Sanders pressing the down button impatiently. They rushed into the elevator and slammed the button for sublevel one. Mark was already tying his scrub cap.

“What are you going to do?”

“The infection is going to keep spreading unless we cut the affected tissue away. Our plastic surgeon can use skin grafts to make it less excruciating for her, but she’s going to be in a lot of pain when she wakes up, if she wakes up.” He handed Clint a cap and he tied it hastily over his hair.

“Whatever you do, she’s had worse.” The doors opened and they were moving again. People in all shades of blue and pink scrubs moved to the sides of the hall as they passed.

“Page Doctor Tyler and Doctor Tribec, I want her prepped and ready in OR 5 in ten minutes.” Suddenly the bed was changing hands and Clint made to follow it but Doctor Sanders grabbed his arm. “They need to change her, and you need to scrub if you’re going to enter the OR.”

“She’s allergic to morphine! Her blood type is 0-.” He called after the doctors. “And if she wakes up, back away and say the word ‘Foxtrot.’” A tiny redhead nodded to show she heard him and then they had disappeared around the corner. The two men turned the corner to the left and pushed through the large metal door labeled ‘5’. In front of them was a normal looking operation room, equipped with machines, bright overhead lights, and trays upon trays of very scary looking tools. To their left was a glass door, which slid open to let them into a long narrow room with windows looking into the OR and a long row of metal sinks.

Doctor Sanders decked him out in light blue scrubs and handed him a mask, which he put on before taking the soap to his hands and lower arms. As he watched, Natasha was expertly transferred onto the operation table, face down on a headrest with a hole so she could breathe. A blue gown had been constructed to cover her front while leaving her infected back clear. A blanket was pulled up to her lower hips. As he watched they started hooking her up to machines. He was very glad when he saw an anesthesiologist put her under, knowing full well if she woke up in an operation room and he wasn’t five inches away she would freak.

“Ready?”

They had a stool set up for him by her head, where he wouldn’t get in the way. All the doctors and nurses and people made him antsy, but the logical part of his brain registered that Bruce wouldn’t send them anywhere where they would be in danger. They started in on her back and he closed his eyes. He had seen worse, but he wasn’t in the mood to watch sharp silver tools strip the skin from his best friend’s back. Instead he rested a gloved hand in her soft hair and shifted into a more comfortable position, opening his eyes just enough to see the redness of her hair and his fingers tangled in it. With his other hand he pulled out his Stark phone and started typing a message.

                                                                                                                        *****

Tony grinned as the computer screens whirred to life, displaying several old distress messages from the engines. He cleared the screen and brought up navigation, directing the vessel to hover in place above the building.

“Steve, I’ve got the helicarrier online.”

“Great. Banner and Thor should be in the bunker by now,” he replied. The Captain was still on the roof of the building, shooting down the progressively fewer Asgardians who were being sent down. “Sam, how you doing?”

“I’m flying around in freaking circles up here and I haven’t run into any damn thing.” His wings pumped powerfully as he swooped through the air, trying to do so in a meticulous pattern so as not to repeat himself. “I’m sorry, I thought you said this thing had to be close?”

“All we know is that the they’re dropping out of the sky. They’ve got to be coming from somewhere.”

“I know, I got that part. It’s not going to make any difference if Loki gets down there and kills them all, or turns them all with his staff, or holds them all prisoner while demanding world domination?” Tony sighed and flicked through screen after screen of data readouts from various ship wide operations.

“If it comes down to it we’ll bury them.”

“What?!”

“We’ll use the weapons on this helicarrier to fire on the building. The explosion would cause the ground to collapse, burying everyone in the bunker, including Loki.”

“Thor and Bruce are down there,” Sam reminded him.

“If it comes down to it,” Stark repeated himself forcefully. “We’ll give them time first. We just have to...wait.”

                                                                                                                    *****

The elevator doors opened and Bruce knew something was wrong. There were no security guards pointing their guns at him and Thor. Instead they were greeted by their backs as their weapons were aimed at Loki.

“How nice of you to join us, Doctor Banner. Brother,” the warlord hissed the last word with disgust.

“How did you get in here?” The two Avengers stepped slowly into the room. Most of the world’s political leaders had pressed themselves against the far left wall behind the protection of their guards.

“I tunneled in under the ocean floor.” He inclined his head towards the dark hole in the corner and clasped his hands around his scepter.

“You’re an illusion,” Thor rumbled, glowering at his brother. “You can do no harm.” Loki’s smile faltered.

“I need not hide any longer. I am the king!”

“You are no such thing!” The god of lightning roared, charging forwards. He hit Loki head on and they tumbled into the dark abyss from which he had come. Bruce’s mouth hung open for a second before his brain caught up.

“Come on, in the elevator. Quickly!” The leaders complied, scurrying to follow his instructions like frightened children. Thor wasn’t going to be able to keep Loki at bay forever, but hopefully it would be long enough to get the committee to safety. “When you get up there put this device in your ear and press it to talk with Stark. He’s got a ship up there to take them to safety.” He handed his com to the most put together looking security guard and pushed him into the elevator before the doors slid shut. He was left with the remaining terrified leaders, who were all in various stages of panic. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator returned and the rest of them piled in, leaving him alone. He checked his watch. He would give Thor ten minutes before doing something drastic.

                                                                                                                 *****

The tunnel walls were cold and hard and damp. This Thor realized as he tumbled downwards for what seemed like eternity, still locked in a wrestling match with his adopted brother. Thor was the stronger of the two but Loki was tricky and fast, blocking all his blows at lightning speed. When they finally hit ground he felt a wave of relief as he rose back to his towering height. Loki must have created the tunnel from one of the nearby islands, under the ocean floor and up into the bunker. The rock he stood on was slick. He swung his hammer but it merely dissipated the illusion, the real Loki popping up behind him and hitting him with a blast of concussive force that sent him slamming into the cave wall. If he continued to use powerful magic like that, the island would collapse down upon them and crush the two to death. The hammer hit the real Loki this time, slamming him down against the rock and pinning him there, the immovable force on his chest. No matter how he struggled, and what magic he tried to use, the hammer did not shift. Thor wiped a stream of blood from his forehead and turned, pacing over to his opponent, who lay gasping on the cold stone ground. The force of the hammer would slowly crush his ribs and internal organs, driving him into the ground.

                                                                                                                 *****

Sam lifted yet another member of the committee through the air, dropping her unceremoniously on the landing bay of the helicarrier. She filtered inside, where she followed Stark’s signs leading down a hallway and into a large conference room where the others were gathered. He watched Stark appear, towing five people up to the helicarrier.

“Show off,” he muttered, pumping his wings a few times. He picked up the last man and deposited him like the others before joining Tony, who was hovering a few feet off the landing. “What now?”

“Banner and Thor haven’t come up yet.” Tony sighed. “Sam, you know how to pilot a helicarrier?” His jaw dropping was enough answer. “Steve.”

“Yeah, Stark?”

“I need you to pilot this thing until you get reception again. From there call in flight control and the White House, tell them what’s going on. Get Obama to confirm it for them.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“I’m the one with missiles,” he pointed out. “We’ve still got to handle this other helicarrier, we can’t let Loki’s people get away.” He heard Steve sigh.

“Alright, I’ll need a pick up.” Sam dove down and grabbed Steve off the roof, swearing as his arms strained to hold the man’s weight and the shield.

“You’re really heavy, you know that?” He grunted and set him down carefully next to Tony, who was standing with his arms crossed.

“Once we destroy this helicarrier, we should be able to use cellphones again, so we’ll call you. Once air traffic control comes, they can take control of this helicarrier. You can take one of the Quinjets from the cargo bay and swing back around to get us before we head out to Australia where Banner sent Barton.” Captain America handed his gun to Sam before heading inside.

“What are we going to do?”

“You’re going to take his spot on the roof. I’ll have Jarvis run some heat scans, I’ve studied the engine schematics and modified a scan to pick up that particular heat signature. When we’re ready I’ll grab Thor you grab Banner, we’ll fly to a safe distance and blow the ship, land on one of the nearby islands to wait for Rogers.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he muttered, taking off for the roof. Not long after Stark took off the giant vessel was moving. It whirred forward quickly, slowly ascending as it shrunk into the distant skyline.

“Jarvis, scan for heat signatures using the modified algorithm.”

“Yes Mr. Stark,” the cool British voice replied. Stark watched Sam shoot yet another Asgardian out of the sky. The bodies on the beach below were piling up. “There is a faint heat signature here,” his helmet outlined the air in front of him with red.

“I need you to pick up four different heat signatures to isolate each engine.”

“Yes sir.” He watched the red lines trace themselves across the sky slowly, painstakingly. One rotating engine was drawn in red, then another. Stark waited impatiently.

“Banner, do you copy?” There was no response. So he waited. He checked his voicemail, his texts, his watch. It was still set to New York time, which told him it was 10 pm on a Saturday. But he was halfway across the world from his city, and in truth it was nearing sunset where he was.

“I have located all four engines, sir.”

“Got a lock on them?”

“Yes sir.” Tony sighed and flew down to join the Falcon on the roof.

“We need to blow this joint before Loki gets a chance to escape.”

“That will not happen, Stark,” Thor’s voice boomed through the com, causing both men to wince. He hadn’t yet mastered the art of an ‘inside voice.’

Tony looked over the edge of the roof to find Banner and Thor climbing out onto the beach through the broken window. Thor was bleeding from a gash on his head, but otherwise they looked no worse for wear.

“Where’s the hammer?” Tony jumped down onto the beach.

“It is pinning Loki to the ground of the underground tunnel he created to enter this location,” he replied. “When I summon it, the force of Mjolnir will break through the layers of earth and they will collapse in on him.”

“Sure you’re ready for that?” Sam joined them on the beach.

“I am sworn to protect this planet, at whatever cost. Loki has been given his chance at redemption and failed.” The blonde bowed his head. “I do not wish to kill my brother but I will do so for the good of this planet.” Stark clapped his hands together.

“Great! So we’re going to pick you up and get back at a safe distance, I’m going to blow up that ship and Thor will summon his hammer. Ready?” They all nodded.

****  
  


Tony picked Thor up and lifted him easily into the air, followed shortly by Sam and Banner. They flew high and far.

“Fire all four missiles into the engines.” The arms of his suit opened up and the missiles fired, whizzing off and leaving white trails through the sky. They hit their targets and suddenly the sky was on fire. The outline of the helicarrier flickered in and out of phase.

“Okay, summon the hammer now and lets get the hell out of here.” Thor raised his arm, opened his fist. The air hummed and after several seconds, something whooshed through the air and nearly knocked them out of the air. Stark flew backwards before his backward thrusters kicked in and he leveled out. They watched as the ground rumbled and the building started to sink into the earth. Glass shattered, walls crumbled and the sandy beaches spilled into the deep cracks in the ground. Above the helicarrier spiralled towards the island.

"We should go. There's going to be a big explosion when that thing crashes and I don't want to get caught in the shock wave." They all looked to Thor. He was watching the destruction, tears threatening to fall.

"Let us go."

They flew in silence to the nearest island, barely large enough to build a large house on and composed of soft brown dirt. Iron Man sat down, closely followed by Banner and the Falcon. Thor stood stoically by the water, gazing out at the distant explosion. He had essentially just killed his brother. Evil or not, Thor had been raised with Loki, cared for him.

"Sir, you are receiving a call from Captain Rogers."

"Put him on speaker."

"I take it you blew up the ship?" Steve's face appeared on the inside of his helmet but his voice was projected outwards for the others to hear.

"We're on the nearest island..." Stark paused, then followed with coordinates. "20 minutes." The phone call ended.

"Jarvis, call Clint," Bruce said tiredly. "We should tell him what's going on."

"Calling Agent Barton." The dial tone rang out five times before Clint picked up.

"Phones are working again?" His voice was hushed.

"We blew the ship and got the committee out. Loki's gone."

"About damn time," the archer muttered. Thor's fingers twitched on his hammer but he didn't respond.

"How's Natasha?" Bruce asked.

"She's unconscious but alive. They had to take her into surgery and remove the infected tissue. Doctor Sanders says the next few hours are crucial. Look, I gotta go. If she wakes up and I'm not in there she'll kill someone."

"It'll take us a few hours to get there. Tell Mike I'll text him when we're ready to be let in,” Bruce said.

"Bye." He hung up abruptly, and the four men were left sitting on the tiny island, watching the horizon turn red with flames.

The Quinjet arrived a while later. They loaded up into the back and Bruce set the coordinates into the computer, setting it for autopilot.

“So how’d it go?”

“The range of the jamming systems wasn’t far, they managed to send people immediately. Maria Hill has been working with the government in rebuilding SHIELD, so they sent her in because she can fly the thing.” Tony’s suit folded up and he clicked his wristbands on. The suit would be able to fly to him at a moment’s notice. Thor handed each of them a bottle of water. Steve had obviously cleaned up already, so the God of thunder moved into the small bathroom first.

“Clint says Natasha’s out of surgery, so that’s something at least.” The doctor laid down across one of the benches next to Tony. Steve sat across from the next to Sam, who had removed his heavy wings and flight goggles.

“Thor’s going to need some tape for his head,” Sam said tiredly.

“You need stitches,” the Captain noticed.

“Huh?” Sam looked down to see a deep gash across his arm. He wasn’t even sure how he’d got it, or when. Bruce stood and pulled out the medical kit. In the time it took for Thor to shower, the doctor had properly cleaned and stitched the Falcon’s injury. He put a few thin strips of tape over the gash on Thor’s forehead and disappeared into the bathroom himself. As always Tony looked spotless in sweatpants and a tee shirt, but he had worn his metal suit the entire time.

“How’re you holding up?” The surly god was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“I am fine.”

“You just killed your brother.”

“And he killed thousands of my people who rebelled against his ruling. Loki’s death was just.” He took a seat next to Tony as Bruce emerged, towelling his hair dry.

“Guys, the flight is going to take at least another seven hours. We should get some rest.”

“Jarvis, wake us up five minutes before we arrive.”

“Yes sir.” The five of them slowly resigned to sleeping and laid themselves out in various awkward positions. It wasn’t very comfortable, but over exhaustion led them to fall asleep quickly and quietly.

                                                                                                             *****

“She’s waking up.”

“Hold her down.” Natasha’s eyes flew open and her limbs flailed automatically. Upon receiving resistance she only fought harder, twisting and writhing in the sheets.

“Get off me you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!”

“Tasha, it’s me!” She paused, muscles twitching with uncertainty. Clint’s face came into focus above her. “You’re in a hospital, but it’s OK, no one is going to hurt you. I’ve been with you the whole time, they haven’t laid a hand on you, okay?” She could hear her heart rate monitor beeping incessantly fast.

“Hospital?” The pace quickened.

“You’re okay. There are no doctors in here except for Bruce. Okay?” She nodded slowly and hands released her wrists and ankles. Eventually her vision cleared completely. Bruce, Tony, Steve, Sam, Thor and Clint were all standing around her bed in a room with glass walls. There were no other patients in the rooms next to hers, for which she was grateful.

“What..?”

“They removed the infected tissue on your back.”

“So that’s why I feel like I’ve been flayed.” They slowly sat down in their chairs, pulling up on either side of her bed.  

“Yeah. The doctors used a new type of skin graft that Banner’s been working on for your back. It should allow for much more minimal scarring.” She shifted slightly and could have sworn every nerve ending on her back screamed in protest. She felt like a mummy, her entire back and ribcage bandaged along with her shoulders.

“How long till I can get out of here?”

“Depends. We’re stuck here for at least ten days, and when I say that I’ve already shortened it down from normal to your recuperation time. And that’s presuming you don’t get another infection. Doctor Sanders also offered to fix your fingers in surgery.”

She raised an eyebrow. “From ‘Nam?”

“Ohhh.”

“What?” Tony asked for the rest of them.

“The bones in her right hand are still a little crooked because she was fighting with broken fingers and by the time we got home, they were already healed, just badly. And yes, I told him you’d probably say ‘screw you’ but I thought I’d ask.”

“They’re barely crooked, and they work fine,” she said dismissively, eyes roaming over Clint. “You look horrible.” He groaned and pressed his face into the mattress by the left hand.

“Thanks, Tasha.”

“Get some sleep.”

“Mm.” Natasha rolled his eyes at him and gently ran her fingers through his hair. He was exhausted, so it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

“We’re glad you’re okay,” Steve whispered.

“You’re not off the hook Rogers, you guys look horrible too.” He had the grace to look ashamed.

“You’re one to talk, Romanoff,” Tony snorted. “You look like you were hit by a train and then run over by it.” She gave him the finger with the hand that wasn’t stroking Clint’s tousled hair.

“You need to go eat something, you look like ghosts.”

“She is back to bossing us,” Thor whispered to Banner. “That is a good sign of recovery.”

“I heard that,” she scowled. They scampered quickly from the room, no doubt off to scrounge up some food. She pulled the blankets up and sunk into the bliss of unconsciousness.

*********


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sorry this chapter was so short, but there will be a sequel with action and real romance this time. Okay? Don't hate me? Comment below!
> 
> (Sequel ---- http://archiveofourown.org/works/4003549/chapters/8992855 )

**CHAPTER 12**

 

Ten days later found the Avengers sitting around the dining room table, sipping wine and finishing off their ice cream. Natasha’s back was still bandaged, but the arrow wounds had healed into fresh scars and the cuts and burns were slowly fading. She and Clint had been removed from active duty for two more weeks in order to heal. Thor had travelled between Jane Foster and the Tower all week, not wishing to go home to the destruction and death Loki left in his wake. Pepper was out of New York again, trying to clean up the mess they’d made. She had become their press person, something for which they were all eternally grateful. Their successful rescue of the world’s most important people had gained them some favors in the public eye, but they had also destroyed an international peace island and a billion dollar ship in the process. It was a huge mess, but Ms. Potts was dealing with it.

“Maybe we’ll get to leave the Tower now,” Bruce said thoughtfully, dumping fudge sauce over his ice cream.

“Pepper said to stay put for the time being,” Tony was stealing bites of the Doctor’s dessert, having already finished his.

“Well Nat and I aren’t allowed back to SHIELD for two weeks, Fury was so pissed that we didn’t contact him. And Nat isn’t sparring again for another five days, so….movies?”

“Someone’s going to need to go shopping if we’re going to do a movie marathon.”

“I’ll go, I’m least known. With a hood and sunglasses I should be good,” Falcon said. Normally Pepper shopped for them, but she was unavailable.

 

“Fantastic! Whose turn is it to do dishes?”

“It’s Sunday. So Bruce and Thor.” The two men stood and collected dishes, moving into the kitchen. Clint and Natasha drifted out onto the balcony overlooking New York. The sky was dark, but the evening was lit by flashing lights and the glow of thousands of headlights. They leaned against the railing, the slight breeze ruffling their hair.

“You nearly died.”

“Yeah.”

“I nearly killed you.”

“Yeah.” He turned to watch her, trying to read her expression.

“Are you going to say anything other than ‘yeah’?” She glanced sidelong at him.

“What do you want me to say, Clint?” She spoke softly, so that Tony, Steve and Sam who were picking movies wouldn’t hear. “I already forgave you.”

“I know. But what do you think about it? All of it.”

“I think close calls are a hazard of the job. You’ve been there, I’ve been there, and the important thing is that we got through it. And we will continue to get through it.” She straightened her back and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“It’s hard for me to believe that you can just forgive me like that, Tasha.”

“You forgave me. For the hospital, for all the people I killed before you saved me. You forgave me, and you’re a good person. You deserve forgiveness.”

“You never forgave any of the people from the Red Room who tortured you.”

“That’s because they enjoyed it, they wanted to do it, and they weren’t forced to. They did it of their own free will. That’s unforgivable. What you did? It was bad.” He hung his head slightly in shame but she kept talking, her voice soft and kind. “But I’ve done worse.” Clint opened his mouth as if to protest, but the look she gave him stopped him. “You’re not the same as them. You’re not a monster, Clint.”

 

“I can’t lose you, Tasha,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what I would do without you. It scares me so much when you get hurt. You have no idea how….terrifying it is. To have no power over whether you live or die.”

“I do. I understand.”

“Tasha--” before he could finish she stepped closer, her body inches from his.

“I love you.”

“What?” It was so far from what he expected her to say that when she leaned up to kiss him he froze. When he finally came to terms with what was happening his hand slid to the small of her back and he pulled her closer, tangling the other hand in her soft red curls. He needed her, to feel her warmth against his, her lips so soft against his. When she finally withdrew he could still feel the ghost of her fingers touching his neck, his arm.

“I…” That sly half-smile of hers made Clint want to kiss her again and never let her go. “I thought love was for children.” She wrapped her arms around him and he responded instantly, resting his hands on her waist and pulling her flush against him. The spy leaned up on her tiptoes, her breath hot against his cheek. Her lips graced his ear as she spoke.

“We never got to be children, did we?”

 

                                                    *****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! There will be a sequel!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4003549/chapters/8992855


End file.
